


Dust to Dust

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Outlaw Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is a young teacher in New York City, and with only a few friends and family, she keeps to herself. One night, her best friend, Regina Mills, convinces Emma to come out to a bar Regina’s boyfriend, Robin Sherwood, owns in Tribeca. It’s here where she crosses paths with a mysterious Irish musician named Killian Jones, the lead singer of a band performing there. Emma and Killian both have heartbreaking pasts, which they will only overcome with the help of each other. Will they be able to break down their walls and let love in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Only trust someone who can see these three things in you: The sorrow behind your smile, the love behind your anger, and the reason behind your silence."_

This was so unlike Emma, standing in front of her bathroom mirror, applying a fresh coat of makeup to her face, brushing her pin-straight blonde locks, worrying about what outfit she would wear. No, this was not Emma. Or at least it hadn’t been in a very long time, but Regina, her best friend since college, asked her to go out tonight and since Regina’s boyfriend, Robin, was debuting a new band at his bar in Tribeca, she felt it was only polite to go. _Robin would appreciate having an audience he knows_ , Regina told her, knowing all too well that Emma would likely say no, blaming it on papers to grade or lesson plans to write. But Regina was stubborn, bothering her all week, assaulting her cell phone with text messages until Emma eventually caved.

She sighed, staring into the mirror, wondering if she had made a mistake this past year, getting lost in her teaching career, pretending she didn’t need anything besides that. Neal had left her, and she bit her bottom lip, feeling the lump in her throat and the ache in her heart growing, knowing that the wounds he caused were still painfully open. He didn’t love her, his only reason for leaving, and she shook her head, trying to force the heartbreaking thoughts away, attempting to put them back in her vault of memories and lock them away tightly.

She walked out of her bathroom into her bedroom, rummaging through her closet, throwing some clothes on her bed. She eventually settled on dark wash jeans and a wine-colored button down shirt, optioning for a pair of black boots to complete her outfit. She pressed over her shirt with her hands, letting out a long sigh as she reached for her coat and handbag and headed out the door.

When she arrived at the bar, she quickly caught Regina’s attention, as her best friend waved her over to their table. She glanced around the bar, remembering how small and charming it was. There were a few tables scattered throughout, and a decent sized bar in the far corner. It had been a while since she’d been here, and since then, Robin had a stage installed. Tonight, it was set up with instruments and microphones and a group of musicians sat on the edge of the stage, facing the bar. Regina’s table was tucked into a corner close to the stage, as she chatted with three ladies Emma didn’t recognize.

"I almost thought you were going to bail on me," Regina scoffed, reaching for an empty chair and pulling it over for Emma. "I even had Robin get us a good table, so you would have been in a lot of trouble, Em."

"I figured I owed you at least one night out," Emma responded, smirking as she sat down. "I’m good for a year now, right?"

"Whatever," Regina responded, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, these are my friends from work. This is Mary, Belle, and Ruby."

Emma nodded politely at the women as she impatiently waited to order a drink, drumming her fingers on the table anxiously. Regina noticed, recognizing her best friend’s usual nervous habit. She glanced towards her work friends, glad that they were ogling the musicians up by the bar instead of observing Emma and making her even more uncomfortable.

"I hear they’re really good," Mary said, cutting through the silence. "You know, the lead singer, he’s Irish."

"Really?!" Belle and Ruby said in unison, chuckling as the three ladies continued to gossip about the musicians as the men sat by their instruments, chugging mugs of beer in sync with one another.

Regina took Emma’s hand, caressing it softly, causing Emma to startle. “It’s going to be okay,” Regina whispered, an air of reassurance surrounding her. “The world’s not going to end because Emma Swan had a little fun. I promise.”

Emma smiled weakly, glad that the waiter finally made his way to their table. She ordered her usual (rum and coke) and the waiter returned with the drink promptly, placing the cold beverage in front of Emma. She proceeded to take a large swig of it, the sweet burn of alcohol trickling down her throat, as she pretended to be interested in the conversation the other ladies were having, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She scanned the establishment, taking note of the young crowd huddled around the bar, the older patrons sitting comfortably at the tables. Every one was talking, smiling, and having a good time, except _her_. She knew it had been a year—god, a whole year—since Neal, since he broke her heart, since she learned not to trust anyone, not to let anyone into her life again. She was surprised Regina managed to stick around, considering how closed off and distant she had been lately.

Before she knew it, she had finished her drink, having to flag down the waiter to bring her another one. She watched as the musicians began to stir, preparing for their set. Sure, they were cute, and she didn’t mind looking at them, but she’d be kidding herself if she thought anything would come of it. Robin walked up to the microphone, announcing the entertainment for the night, smiling in the direction of his loving girlfriend before walking behind the bar.

"Is that him?" Ruby chimed in, interrupting Emma’s thoughts and pointing towards the handsome musician who was getting ready in the front. "Is that the Irish guy?"

Somebody must have answered, but Emma didn’t hear it. The buzz of the bar began to fade out from her senses, and Emma studied the musician, as he threw the guitar around his shoulder. He was dressed simply—torn jeans, a plaid button down shirt and a pair of worn out high top sneakers. His hair was a dark, raven black, tousled upon his head, and his face was covered in a generous layer of stubble. He tapped the microphone a few times, as each of the musicians began to warm up, running through a brief sound check before looking out into the crowd, the lights in the bar dimming. With a nod of his head, the band began to play and Emma’s eyes were glued to his figure, watching as his strong hands strummed the strings of the guitar, and listening intently to his smooth voice glide over the lyrics of each song. It wasn’t until the set was close to the end that she realized her mouth was slightly agape.

The lights began to flicker on in the bar, as the band left the stage to a round of applause. Emma couldn’t believe herself, couldn’t believe that she had watched him so intensely, like he was the only thing in the room. She could feel the blush growing on her cheeks, her hands growing incredibly clammy, and her throat drying up, causing her to gulp loudly. She wondered if he saw her, staring at him like a fool the entire time, and she tried to calm herself, breathing deeply, biting her bottom lip in frustration and running her fingers apprehensively through her hair. She was glad Regina didn’t seem to notice, as she giggled like a teenager with Belle, as Ruby and Mary got up to head to the bathroom. Emma scanned the room, looking frantically for the dark haired musician, but she couldn’t find him through the crowd, squinting her eyes to see through the mob of people overwhelming Robin at the bar. She jolted when the waiter placed a glass of rum and coke in front of her and she darted her head towards him, a puzzled look covering her face.

"I… I didn’t order this," she stated in a flustered tone, causing Regina to shoot her gaze swiftly towards Emma. "I’m sure I didn’t."

"It’s from the man at the bar," the waiter stated, pointing towards the dark haired musician, who finally came into her view. He locked eyes with Emma, smiled lightly and winked at her, before turning back around.

 _Is he freaking serious?_ she thought, her teeth clenching tightly, her hands clutching her handbag like she was strangling it, her mind racing as she fumed with aggravation. Emma courteously nodded at the waiter, smiling weakly as she hastily picked up the drink, marched over to the bar and placed it down firmly in front of him.

"I don’t accept drinks from strangers at bars," she stated, the intensity with which she placed it down causing the drink to spill over. "So thanks, but no thanks."

He looked slightly stunned, but not completely confused. He just grinned teasingly, as she turned around and headed back for her friends, and lunged forward, grabbing her arm forcefully and turning her around vigorously, causing her to stumble towards him.

"Well, then let’s not be strangers, shall we?" he retorted as Emma wriggled out of his grasp, sighing exasperatedly. His expression changed though, when he realized the wrongfulness of his actions, his body growing tense. "I’m… I’m sorry. I only bought you the drink because you looked so lonely over there during our set."

She couldn’t believe him. _Seriously,_ she had to think to herself, wondering how he could possibly feel comfortable enough to talk to her like that. He was absolutely infuriating. He didn’t even know her, and yet, he was acting like he _knew_ her. And for some strange reason she couldn't explain, it felt like he did, his rich Irish accent dancing over his words, making her feel relaxed and at _home_. She shook the thoughts away.

"And how would you know I was lonely?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, her forehead scrunching, trying to pretend like she wasn’t affected by him. He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

"The look in your eyes, the heartbreak hidden in them," he responded, making sure to avert his gaze from hers. "It’s just… I know the feeling… all too well…"

She paused for a moment, noticing how his voice trailed off, how small he seemed from a moment ago, when he just seemed like just another frat boy at a bar, offering her a drink just to get in her pants. Now he seemed genuine, like there was something there that made him seem different. She felt a genuine pull towards him, and yet she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She _was_ Emma Swan, after all. She didn’t deserve _this_. And yet, she wondered if this same sentiment was the reason she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

"Oh," she whispered, shuffling nervously, trying to think of a witty remark as a come back. "And how do I know you didn’t drug my drink or something? You _are_ a stranger.”

He chuckled, the previous creases in his face smoothing over, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “Well, love, because I’m not that kind of man.” She tilted her head to the side, the confidence in his aura rubbing off on her, a certain level of cockiness rising in her thoughts. 

"And what kind are you?" she murmured teasingly, strolling towards him in a way that was so unlike her.

"An honorable one," he countered, his stare locking on her face.

She felt her breath hitch, her heart beat a little faster than usual as his piercing cerulean eyes scanned over her, like he was taking a mental image of her, like he never wanted to forget the way she looked in that moment.

"Name’s Killian, love," he added, smiling proudly, noticing the way she blushed at the sound of his name, the way her eyes grew wide and darted between his eyes and his lips. _He called me ‘love,’_ she thought, her heart thumping in her chest. "And yours is?" he asked, as Emma startled out of the trance he caused, causing Killian to smirk and raise an eyebrow.

She stammered, having difficulty forming words, the rum from earlier finally catching up with her. He waited patiently, comfortably sitting in the silence they shared. “Emma,” she blurted out, her voice cracking a little bit due to the dryness in her throat.

He chuckled, standing up to look down upon her and took her hand in his, brushing his lips over the top of it, kissing it softly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Emma," he stated in a low, gruff tone, his eyes looking up from her hand as he caressed it carefully with his thumb. She blushed, _again_ , releasing her hand slowly from his gentle touch, unconsciously lingering in his grasp.

"I should… probably… get going," Emma stuttered, stumbling backwards.

"Aye, your friends will probably want to know what you’re doing talking to the strange Irish man," he jested, smirking as he waved playfully towards her friends, who were staring intently in their direction. "Til we meet again, love?"

Emma rolled her eyes, turning around to head towards her friends, who were all smirking, especially Regina, who had this _I told you so_ look on her face. "Goodnight, Killian," she said over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as her figure made its way through the crowd.

"Maybe next time, I can buy you that drink, love," he added, and she could feel the smirk on his lips, could almost see it in her mind. God, she had already memorized his face. She walked faster towards her table, fearing she may lose the conviction in her step and turn around, give in to him when she had only just met him. Yet, she knew she would be kidding herself if she denied that she grinned widely at his invitation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezSsv91xAdY)

Emma walked hesitantly up the steps from the subway platform, exiting into the cold New York City air and heading for Church Street. She was tired from a long day at school, but Regina figured they could do some shopping on Fifth Avenue, get in some much needed girl time, or at least that’s how she marketed it to Emma. That was twice in one week: Regina being able to win Emma over, get her to come out of her comfortable, little bubble and actually _enjoy_ herself. Emma walked quickly down the cool sidewalk, turning swiftly down Church Street, spotting Robin’s bar in her line of sight.

Emma slowed her stride, her usual anxieties creeping up inside her. But what if _he_ was there? What if she ran into _Killian_? Thinking back to the other night, to that mysteriously charming man, with his icy blue stare that burned right through her, and his dark, disheveled hair that made him look like he walked out of a cologne ad, and his smooth vocals causing her to melt like the ice in her drink… She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts to go away. But they didn’t. And they hadn’t, not since that night. She even fell behind in her work, getting easily distracted from the papers piling up on her desk when she thought of the way he smiled at her from across the bar, chuckled at her cocky attitude and pressing questions, smirked as she walked away (even though she didn’t see that… but she knew he did it… and god, that terrified her… because she didn’t even know him that well and yet his face was etched into her memory).

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this, all giddy and lightheaded over a _man,_ and she certainly couldn’t recall meeting a man with as much confidence and bravado as him. Her thoughts consumed her walk, and she didn’t even notice when she arrived at the door to the bar. She peered inside, noticing that the stage was set up with just a piano and a guitar, a few microphones, but nothing else. Killian was nowhere to be found, and she wondered if he even played at the bar anymore. She felt herself frowning, and she tried to remove the expression from her face, to make herself unaffected by him, as she opened the door calmly and headed straight for the counter.

“Well, well, well. To what do I owe your company?” Robin joked, smirking as he did so, chuckling a little as Emma raised an eyebrow.

“I’m here for Regina,” she snapped, sitting down at the counter, drumming her fingers against the hard wood.

“She’ll be just a minute,” he responded, walking towards the kitchen door. “I’ll go and tell her you’re here.”

Emma nodded, hoping Regina wouldn’t take too long, wishing that she could just get out of here, because her mind was replaying the entire encounter with Killian. Hopefully, he wasn’t here to see her blushing at just the mere thought of him, because she couldn’t deal with it right now, the nervous feeling bubbling up in her stomach, overflowing into her chest and throat. No, not right now. And even if he were there, she would just get Regina and then _leave_. Not even a hello, because she knew if her eyes locked onto his, she would get sucked into everything that was _him_ … that was _Killian_. And no, no, no… Emma couldn’t, not now…

“I see you’re back, lass,” she heard from behind her, as a figure slid into the seat next to her. She turned her head, noticing the slight smirk appearing on his face, the eyebrow raised with a sense of determination, the intensity behind his stare causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

“Well, I’m just… I’m just here… to pick up… uh, Regina,” she stuttered, trying to calm the heavy thud of her heart in her chest, swallowing hard to help the dryness in her throat to subside, praying that he couldn’t sense her unease.

“Aye, so you’re not sticking around to hear me rehearse then?” Killian asked, his expression looking awfully hopeful, as if he secretly wished she were here to see him. And part of him knew she couldn’t be, because despite the fact that he’d only met her recently, he could tell she wasn’t like any other girl he’d ever met. She was difficult, stubborn, a tough lass (as his brother would have said). No, she wouldn’t be here to see him…

“Nope,” she countered back hastily, causing his heart to sink, as his hands fidgeted with the toothpicks left stranded on the countertop.

“That’s too bad, love,” he whispered, and he moved a little closer to her, removing any sort of empty space previously between them. “I had a pretty good song picked out. You could even sing it with me, if you wanted to.”

Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head towards him. “I sincerely doubt that, but nice try,” she scoffed, moving back a little bit, trying desperately to create a wall between them.

“No, really. I’m serious,” he stated, springing up from his seat and heading towards the stage. She watched him saunter away to his guitar, and he was fully aware of her gawking as she traced his steps, watching as he jumped up on the stage, grabbed his guitar and slung it around his shoulder. He turned around with what she could only describe as the goofiest grin she had ever seen, and it made her heart melt and her eyes flutter and her head spin and he chuckled, his eyes asking her to join him.

“I still don’t believe you,” she said, smiling as she slowly sat up from her seat and walked to the stage to stand next to him. He nodded towards the sheet music on a stand next to his microphone, prompting her to skim it briefly.

“Nice song choice,” she jested, and his face beamed, as he slowly began to play the opening chords of the song.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Killian said reassuringly, nodding back towards the sheet music. “You do know how to read music, darling?” Emma nodded playfully, glancing over the music quickly, vaguely remembering the words from the last time she heard it on the radio, and trying to hear the melody in her head. “Just start singing on the refrain,” he added and continued to strum cautiously, as he cleared his throat and began to sing, his voice, low and raspy, echoing throughout the empty establishment.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you.  
I’ll be the one, if you want me to._

She watched as he closed his eyes, becoming one with the music, cocking his head to the side as he glided smoothly over the words. She bit her bottom lip tightly, trying to push back the color creeping up on her cheeks.

_Anywhere, I would’ve followed you.  
Say something, I’m giving up on you._

On the last words, he opened his eyes, locking on to hers, a stormy blue gaze causing her to stiffen. He smiled, nodding to the music again, and she picked it up nervously, fretting with it, trying feverishly to find her place. He strolled towards her, slowing down the short interlude of music in between where he stopped and where she was supposed to begin, and he took his hand off his guitar, taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing softly over hers as she trembled under his touch.

“And I,” he whispered, and she lifted the paper, clumsily glancing at it, finding her spot and nodding, whispering a small acknowledgement that she’s sure he didn’t hear. He stepped back, quietly restarting his accompaniment, playing with more conviction than before.

_And I will stumble and fall._  
 _I’m still learning to love_  
 _Just starting to crawl._

She kept her eyes glued to the music, feeling his stare cutting through her, resetting every charred ember inside of her ablaze, every feeling she had shoved away since Neal overflowing.

_And I will swallow my pride._  
 _You’re the one that I love_  
 _And I’m saying goodbye._

She looked up from her music to see his smiling face, encouraging her to sing with him instead of at him, promising that she shouldn’t be terrified. She could feel him reading her, like an open book, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seal it off from him, this absolute _stranger_ that she had only just met. And goddamnit, she wanted to slam it shut, because he had already read too much and she was sure he wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he read any further.  

_Say something, I’m giving up on you.  
And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you._

He moved closer to her, releasing his hand from his strings and removing the music from her hands, placing it gently on the stand, returning to his confident accompaniment, and strolling _even_ closer, making the space between them absolutely disappear. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move, felt like her feet were stuck in quicksand. His face was a few inches away from hers, his breath warm on her face, smelling like a combination of mint and rum, prickling her skin. Her eyes began to well with tears, as her gaze moved between his lips and eyes, and all she could think of was to…

_And anywhere, I would have followed you.  
Say something, I’m giving up on you._

He strummed to end the song, his face dangerously close to hers, his lips treacherously reaching out, like she was a magnet pulling him in forcefully. He felt like for a moment the world had closed in on them, that everything had faded away to black, and it was only the two of them in the room. She distracted him, in a way he hadn’t felt in ages, and he felt compelled to touch her, hold her, _kiss_ her. His hands left the strings of his guitar, his focus remaining on her lips, as he moved in…

_Say something, I’m giving up on you._

He inched closer, and she held her breath, reveling in the way his cool exhale tickled her skin. She saw his eyes close, and his head tilt, and the instinctive thing for her to do would be to move with him. But instead, she stepped backwards, causing him to stumble into her, catching himself on the music stand.

“I’m sorry… I… I can’t,” she stammered, apprehensively running her fingers through her hair, averting her gaze from his, trying to suppress the physical signs of her very apparent anxiety.

“What was his name?” he questioned, his voice soft, almost soothing, and her head darted towards him, her forehead creasing. He was challenging her, trying to march through her walls, and she should have expected it. Part of her wanted to storm out, but she knew better. She couldn’t be afraid of him… but she could put him in his place.

“You have no right!” she said sternly, folding her hands over her chest and huffing loudly.

“What was his name, love?” Killian demanded, his eyes narrowing in on her, using the term of endearment to lighten the persistence behind his question. She threw her arms up in exasperation, stomping her foot firmly against the wooden floor of the stage.  

“That’s none of your business!” she yelled back, her teeth clenching, her hands lowering to fist at her side. “And besides, you wouldn’t want to know anyway. We grew apart. That’s it. Alright?”

He nodded silently, his stare never leaving her frame, but she stood strong. She could see his expression change; the sudden heartbreak written all over his face, the heartbreak that she caused him.

“Alright, lass,” he stated slowly, waving his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry… I… I didn’t intend for you to get so upset.”

Emma opened her mouth, as if to apologize for her actions, for overreacting so dramatically towards him, but she spotted Regina making her way from the kitchen, waving towards her and Emma began to back away, tripping a little bit as she shuffled off the stage, never losing sight of Killian’s face until she was halfway across the room, and then she finally turned around. She walked out with Regina, listening to the hazy murmur of Regina blabbering on about her day, but Emma could only hear the voice in her head, cursing at her for having not said something, _anything_ to him. She looked over her shoulder, as he fiddled with his music, shuffling things about for no good reason. When he looked up and caught her, she darted her eyes forward again, not wanting to see the discomfort set deep within his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Killian had a modest upbringing in Ireland, the youngest of three children raised only by his kind and caring mother. The oldest was Liam, a daunting, intimidating fellow with a heart of gold. Then there was Jane, the rebellious middle child who was always under Liam’s watchful eye. And lastly, there was Killian, the naïve young lad with the bashful personality. His mother had loved them all unconditionally, especially after their father ran out on them when Killian was merely two or three. His brother, being the firstborn and about eight years older than Killian, became the man of the house, naturally filling the void that his father left. Liam stayed in Ireland, electing to remain close to home, eventually marrying his high school sweetheart, and starting a family. Jane, however, was quite the handful, using her teenage years to push every button her mother and brother had, ultimately leaving home and moving to the States in her early twenties to study fashion at Boston University. She would visit for a few holidays here and there, until it became too much of a nuisance for her, her visits reduced to short phone calls on Christmas, or Easter, or mom’s birthday.

Killian spent most of his childhood years as a silent bystander, never causing a problem, living quietly in the shadow of his older siblings. His mother convinced him to go off to university, hoping that he would make some friends there, seeing as he was very close with his sister throughout their upbringing, and her departure left him feeling extremely lonely. He met a few people at university, mostly to please his mother, but he always considered them acquaintances that he was sure would lose touch with him upon graduation. It wasn’t until he attended an acting class, an elective he was forced to take, that he met Milah, a young teacher’s assistant aiding the professor throughout the course. She was pursuing an acting career, and dreamed of living in London, performing at the West End. She was originally the one to push Killian to embrace his musical talent, usually setting him up for shows at local hangouts, even driving him to pubs in Dublin to perform. They fell in love rather quickly, their friendship blossoming into a significant relationship in a matter of a few months, one that was easy to live in, giving Killian the care and attention he wasn’t quite used to receiving. They talked about their future together, when they would get married, how many kids they would have, where they would settle down after Milah retired from her acting career. It was all planned out, every last detail, and Killian believed that they could have it all, that they could live a happy, rewarding life together—until the accident took it all away...

Killian dropped out of university soon after, and came to the States to get away from the pain of her loss, from all the memories of what he could have had and what he would never get back, no matter how hard he wished and prayed and pleaded with the heavens. It was Jane’s idea for him to move to New York City, telling him that he couldn’t let Milah’s death deter him from his own dream, and how it would be a lovely way to honor her memory. Seeing as Jane came to the States for the same reason—to escape her past and pursue a new dream, something to distract her from reality—Killian saw it as the only logical option. His older brother, Liam, had chastised Jane for leaving, scolding her for running away from her problems instead of facing them, but with Killian, he said nothing at all.

Milah’s loss left him with a tremendous amount of guilt and emptiness, and he spent the first few months in New York drinking his sorrows away with beer, and then rum, and eventually the strongest whiskey his money could buy. He got a few jobs here and there, working as a busboy, a deliveryman, and eventually, as a bartender in Robin’s bar. A few local musicians hung out there, and after talking with them between shifts, they decided to form a band. He was lucky Robin was an adventurous chap, because after overhearing their conversations, he offered Killian his bar as a possible venue to debut, proposing that they become a permanent residence at his establishment.

For the first time in ages, Killian had felt happy and _peaceful_ , and yet he still felt guilty about his selfish joy. He still felt the ache in his heart when Milah’s face passed by in his mind, when her voice murmured throughout his dreams, but lately her figure was distant and hazy, her voice blurry and muted, and her expression losing its once vibrant clarity in his memory. Now, a slender woman with long cascading curls and beautiful, emerald green eyes slowly replaced her image.

* * *

It had been about a week since Emma had stepped foot in the bar, and Killian wondered if their last encounter had scared her off for good. God... how could he act so recklessly? To think she would want him, some semi-broke musician performing in some bar in the middle of Tribeca. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts to subside, trying to focus on picking songs for his set later since his band mates were more concerned with drinking beer and flirting with a bunch of younger, scantily clad women. Fortunately, the girls were drunk enough to barely notice their poor choice of pick-up lines and less-than-stellar advances.

“You alright there?” Robin asked, patting Killian on the shoulder firmly, his face questioning Killian just as much as his words did. Killian had only known Robin for a few months, and yet he felt a familiar sense of comfort around him, much like he used to with Liam.

“Aye, I’m okay,” Killian responded, fiddling with the paper listing the order of the evening’s performance. “Just trying to iron out this here set list.”

Robin nodded, skimming over the choice of songs for the evening. “I do have a favor to ask of you, lad,” Robin added, his eyes still glancing at the paper and Killian’s illegible scribbles. “In between these last two songs, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Robin,” he responded, jotting a small reminder on the edge of the paper. “What can I do for you, mate?”

Robin chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black velvet box, opening it secretively to reveal a large white diamond attached to a gold band.

“I’m asking Regina for her hand in marriage,” Robin whispered, his eyes beaming with excitement, a large, toothy grin growing on his face. Killian reached out a hand to congratulate Robin, patting him on the back.

“That’s wonderful,” Killian stated, thinking that if Regina would be here later, then maybe... possibly... _perhaps_ Emma would be here too. His heart swelled, and he couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit, hoping that he was right, that she would be here, and that maybe he could make up for the foolishness of his actions, of trying to kiss her when she barely knew him. Robin snapped the box shut, shoving it back in his pocket and thanking Killian, walking away to greet new patrons that had entered the bar.

Killian made a move for the bathroom, thankful that it was a single stall, giving him time to compose his thoughts, just in case Emma _was_ coming. He locked the door swiftly and leaned his hands against the cool, porcelain sink, breathing deeply. His mind began to race with images of Emma, her blonde locks falling loosely in front of her face, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red in his presence, her green eyes scanning over him when she thought he wasn’t looking. God, how hard had he fallen for a girl he originally pitied? Although he knew it was something more, from the first moment his eyes locked onto hers in the bar, mesmerized by him, burning into him like a laser beam. Something came over him in that moment that he couldn’t control, and despite the darkness of the room, he could still sense everything she hid behind those eyes, that she didn’t let anyone see. She wasn’t just some miserable girl in a bar, because those girls never returned a drink with such determination just so they could shout at him about how offensive he was. And maybe that’s why he couldn’t get her out of his mind, because she was so different, and so unique, and just the thought of her made him feel _alive_ again.

He washed his hands and face, staring up into the mirror, trying to find the fear in his eyes and erase it completely, before unlocking the door and heading out into the bar, walking straight towards the stage, gesturing for his band mates to do the same. They set up quickly, the lights dimming slowly as the music began to reverberate in the room. He looked out into the crowd, the spotlights above the stage lighting up the first few feet of the bar. No Regina... and certainly no Emma.  He frowned a little bit, trying not to show his disappointment, and went into autopilot, singing through the songs as if nothing was troubling him. He was more than halfway through the set when his eyes locked onto her figure at the entrance. _Emma_. He almost lost his place in the music, catching himself before he got lost in a trance as he watched the outline of her form walk over to the bar with Regina to chat casually with Robin. Emma didn’t seem to notice (or maybe she didn’t _care_ ) that Killian was here, because she made every effort to avert her eyes from the stage, even when Regina pointed towards it, clapping at the end of one of Killian’s songs.

Killian looked down at his list, realizing he had made it through the entire set, except for the final song and Robin was already walking towards the stage. Regina seemed to be unalarmed by it, but was grinning towards her boyfriend, who was waiting patiently next to the steps, anticipating his cue from Killian. Emma, however, seemed distant, almost upset, depressed, and worst of all, _broken_. He knew that look. Hell, he _was_ that look for almost a year, and Killian couldn’t help but feel the urge to comfort her in any way he could. He wondered if she knew what was about to happen, if Robin had told her before tonight, and her presence here had everything to do with being a good friend to Regina, to be here in her happiest moment, rather than because of her own anticipation and excitement. In the little amount of time Killian had known her, he could sense that Emma was dreading the whole thing, as she averted her gaze to everywhere but the stage, where Robin was now strolling towards the microphone, taking it politely from Killian.

“I’d like to say something before the band plays their final selection,” Robin uttered, his voice slightly shaky, as he scanned the room for Regina’s face. “Would you do me the honor of joining me up here, Miss Regina Mills?” Regina’s face scrunched in uncertainty, and she turned around to glance at Emma, who just shrugged and pushed her friend towards the stage, offering the weakest smile she could muster.

“Regina, we’ve been together for three years, and every day, I have only grown to love you more,” Robin professed, as several women in the audience swooned at his declaration (and it didn’t hurt that it was all done in the smoothest British accent, one that most of these women had never heard before tonight). “I can’t imagine spending a moment apart from you, and that’s why—” He paused, kneeling down on one knee and reaching into his back pocket for the ring he had showed off to Killian earlier, popping the velvet box open to reveal the diamond to his blushing girlfriend.

“Regina Mills,” he said softly, and Regina gasped at the sight of the jewel, her eyes darting between it and Robin’s glowing expression. “Will you marry me?”

Regina’s eyes began to well with tears, and Killian took a moment to glance away from the beaming couple and turn his stare towards Emma, who was now sitting on a barstool, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her teeth tensely biting her bottom lip, her eyes filling with more tears than Regina’s. Regina nodded gently, as Robin leapt up from the ground, dropping the microphone on the stage, causing Killian to dart his head back in the couple’s direction at the startling noise. Robin pulled Regina closer into a tight embrace, kissing her passionately, the crowd applauding enthusiastically as Robin placed the ring on Regina’s finger, and the band began to play.

Killian looked out into the crowd, his voice starting to croon the lyrics to a love song he had decided on for the final tune of the set. The happy couple made their way out to the dance floor in front of the stage, starting to slow dance intimately as other couples proceeded to join them. His eyes moved towards the bar, to where Emma was, but Emma was gone, her seat at the bar empty, her coat draped over it. He scanned the rest of the room, but couldn’t make out her figure in any of the dark forms sitting at the tables. She was literally _gone_ , and he grew worried, having noticed her visible anxiety earlier, wondering how upset she must have been to have the urge to get up and leave. _Or maybe she just went to the bathroom_ , he thought hopefully. But when the song finished and the lights flickered back on in the bar, she was still missing, so he placed down his guitar and leapt off the stage, pushing his way through the crowd of patrons gathering around Regina to gawk at her ring.

Killian walked towards the exit, swiftly grabbing his leather jacket in the process and rushing through the door. His eyes searched the sidewalk, glancing back and forth looking for her soft blonde hair, her slender figure, her delicate expression. When he didn’t find her, he ran down the alleyway next to the bar, exiting out onto a small patio adjoining the building, one that Robin rarely used due to the cold weather. That’s when he saw her, sitting along, staring out towards the city skyline, shivering from the frigid air (she clearly forgot her coat inside during her hasty exit, her emotions obviously fogging her judgment).

“This is certainly no place for a woman without a coat,” he stated, loud and clear, and her head darted around quickly, an expression of pain and fear covering her face, and he suddenly realized she had been crying, the mascara slightly smudged underneath her eyes. He didn’t say anything, as he strolled towards her, taking off his coat in the process and draping it over her sunken shoulders. He half-expected her to shrug it off in her typical cross manner, telling him politely to get lost in the process, but she cozied into it, wrapping it closer over her small frame.

“You alright?” he whispered, pulling up a chair next to her, his knees close enough to brush against hers.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, waving him off, sniffling a little bit as she stared blankly out into the night.

“Are you sure?” he asked, lowering his head, hoping she’d let him in. “Because your best friend just got engaged and you’re sitting out here. Alone.” She let out a small breathy chuckle, and he smiled as she turned to look at him, their eyes locking, the swirl of despair and apprehension pouring out of her gaze, causing Killian’s heart to ache, the need to hold her growing rapidly in his mind.

“I said I’m fine, but thank you,” she said softly, nodding her head gently. “How did you even find me here?”

Killian smiled lightly, hesitant to tell her he was searching for her. “I needed some air. Lucky coincidence, I suppose.”

Emma blushed, her hands curling around the long sleeves of his leather coat, letting out a breathy reply, watching as her exhale trailed off into a icy mist in front of her face. They sat in silence for a while, Emma staring out onto the twinkling skyline, Killian trying desperately to view her through his peripheral vision. He was pleasantly surprised she was letting him stay this long in her company, and he was fighting every urge to wrap her in his arms and whisper soft endearments into her hair and feel the warmth of her body against his... _Bloody hell, Killian_ , he thought to himself, biting his tongue as if to physically shove the feelings away. He turned to look at her, noticing how consumed she was in her own thoughts, and how absolutely charming she looked wrapped in his large coat (and he looked forward to its return, knowing it would smell like she did in this exact moment, like cranberry and vanilla, and he smiled at the thought).

“You know, it’s okay to be angry at her,” he chimed in, interrupting Emma’s trance, causing her to turn towards him, perplexed by his outlandish statement. “Hell, I would be too if my best friend was just shoving her bloody happiness down everyone's throats. It's quite ridiculous, if you ask me.”

She chuckled again, this time a little louder than before, and he could see the smile creeping up in the corners of her mouth, immensely proud that he caused it, that he had caused her to be _happy_ , if even for a fleeting moment.

“Shut up,” she jested playfully, swatting at his torso lightly, causing Killian to grab his chest, dramatically pretending to be injured. She laughed again, and he smiled—correction, he _beamed_ —because she was grinning, her eyes sparkling with joy for the first time that night.

“No,” he retorted, inching a little closer, invading her personal space. “I’m being completely serious here, love.” She huffed in response, rolling her eyes, the flirtatious side of Emma’s personality rising to the surface.

“I don’t believe you,” she countered, backing away from his presence, allowing her wall to resume its place between them. She looked back out onto the skyline, releasing a melancholy sigh as she slumped in her chair.

“Emma,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and husky, and Emma felt a sharp tingle shoot down her spine when he whispered her name like a soft prayer under his breath. “Do you believe in true love?” She sat up straight, looking at him with the utmost confusion at his very personal question, especially after the announcement from Regina and Robin, especially after she looked and acted like _this_.

“Excuse me?” she snapped, and Killian was taken aback, regretting asking the question at all. Part of him wanted to apologize in that instant, but he stood firm, never letting his eyes leave hers, silently demanding an answer.

“You heard me.”

Emma paused in bewilderment, her mouth slightly open in astonishment, as she fished for an appropriate answer to his demand. She stammered slowly, eventually shaking her head no. He cocked his head to the side, grinning widely as he edged towards her, taking her hand in his and brushing his thumb across its smooth top.

“Really? I find that hard to imagine,” he stated, as she shrugged in disagreement. “I’ve never known a person to say they don’t. You had to have believed in at some point or another.”

“I just told you,” she stated firmly, her hand instinctively holding on to his tighter than before. “Why are you asking?”

“Because those walls of yours are so thick,” he stated shakily, worried his words would scare her off, concerned that he went too far, that he pushed too hard, and any progress he had made would be for naught.

“Well, I said no,” she said with conviction, her hand mimicking the strength behind her statement, her fingers clenching around his grasp.

“But you did once?” he asked, and she let go of his hand, frustrated with his level of curiosity, aggravated that he wasn’t getting the hint that she did not want to talk about this, not here, not right now, and certainly not with _him_.

“I... I don’t know,” she responded, looking down to her hands, folding them together, rolling her thumbs nervously. “I... I don’t remember.”

“Are you sure? Think real hard, darling,” he stated, placing both of his hands over hers, not caring if his advances were unwarranted, because damn it, he just wanted her to bloody talk to him.

“Um... I guess... well, when I was little,” she began softly, her hands fiddling underneath his, feeling the roughness of his skin scratching against hers, noticing the way his hands caressed hers in a tender manner unlike any she’d experienced before. She calmed down, breathing a little slower as he nodded, reassuring her to continue opening up to him, his eyes promising that he would listen carefully. “I used to read fairy tales. And I... I always thought if I was strong and courageous like those princesses that my prince would find me.” She gazed up at him, noticing his goofy grin radiate towards her and she released her hands from his grip, almost certain that he was grinning like that because he thought she was absolutely nuts. “I don't know. It's stupid. Just forget it.”

She looked back at her lap, and Killian scooted forward, lifting her chin gently with his hand, forcing her to study him, his face so much softer than before, the creases on his forehead smoothing over, his eyes pleading with her to trust him.

“No, love,” he spoke in a hushed tone. “It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all.”

She cocked her head to the side, her lips creeping back into a smile, his lips mirroring hers into a similar expression. “Really?” she asked, although his expression had already answered that for her, and he simply nodded in reply, moving his hand slowly from her face, causing her to gasp faintly at the loss of his warm touch. He stood up suddenly, extending his hand in front of him in a chivalrous manner.

“Well, lass,” he demanded, nodding towards his hand, an unspoken request for her to take it. “We should probably get back inside. Before you catch a bloody cold.”

She smiled again, the blush creeping up on her cheeks as she took his hand, clutching it tightly as he led her back inside the bar, where Regina and Robin were snuggling closely by the counter, publicly displaying their affection as they both reveled in their new engagement. Emma felt her heart begin to sink, watching as her friend received her well-deserved happy ending, trying to push her own selfish animosity away from her mind. She felt an unexpected squeeze of Killian’s hand from behind her, remembering that it was still gently interlaced with hers. She didn’t dare to turn around, but just his touch was enough to assure her that she was strong, confident, and absolutely brilliant.


	4. Chapter 4

Regina remembered the entire ordeal all too clearly, maybe even better than Emma herself. It was a cool, crisp November evening, and Emma had been spending extra hours at the middle school she worked at in Lower Manhattan. In addition to being a seventh grade English teacher, Emma spent her afternoons coaching the school’s dance team, who were gearing up for a performance of selections from the Nutcracker at the annual winter concert. The dance team was something she did in addition to her daily responsibilities, and the girls on the team had loads of respect for her. It was this type of behavior—the dedicated attitude, the mutual camaraderie and the extra bit of compassion that most teachers failed to achieve—that allowed Emma to be loved and adored by students and parents alike. Regina had always admired that trait in Emma, even in their early days together at NYU, and it was only one of the many reasons that Regina remained such good friends with her.

The phone call came around 7 o’clock that evening. Regina had been out with Robin, taking care of some much-needed grocery shopping, when her cell phone rang. She figured Emma just wanted to chat, so she ignored it at first, making a mental note to call her when she got home. The phone rang again as Regina loaded the groceries into the car, and a third time while Regina was driving home, accompanied by a text that read: _Call me._ The fourth time, Regina finally picked up, and Emma didn’t say anything at first. When she did start to speak, her voice was quiet, shaky and hoarse and Regina could hear the sniffles in between Emma’s inaudible babbles and muffled sobs. Regina kept trying to calm her down, listening carefully in order to decipher Emma’s speech and figure out what exactly was going on. That’s when she heard it, clear and precise— _Neal left me. He’s gone_.

Regina dropped the bag of soda she was carrying, startling Robin with the booming thud. She reassured Emma softly through the phone, told her not to do anything she’d regret, and promised her she’d be over as soon as possible. Robin didn’t ask what was going on, just nodded, letting his girlfriend rush to her best friend’s side as quickly as she could.

Regina hurried across the stone pavement, her brisk jog turning into a sprint as she made her way towards Emma’s apartment building. She used her spare key to get in, leaping up the steps until she was on the third floor. She ran down the hallway to Emma’s apartment, opening the door clumsily, and bursting through the entrance to find Emma on the couch, curled up in a ball, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. There were streaks of black mascara around her eyes and her cheeks were red and swollen. Regina rushed to her friend’s side, immediately sitting on the couch with her. She began to stroke Emma’s hair as she gently whispered encouragements alongside Emma’s uncontrollable sobs, trying her best to comfort her.

Robin came over a few hours later and elected to take down the cheerful pictures of Neal and Emma, fold and bag the clothes Neal left in the bedroom, and remove any reminder of him from the other rooms in the apartment. Emma’s sobs grew quieter as the initial shock subsided and she began to tell Regina everything that had happened. She explained how she came home late from work, excited to tell Neal about the dance team’s progress, but he wasn’t interested. Emma said she asked what was wrong, began demanding to know why he was acting so strange, and it all just spiraled out of control, and then he just _left_.

* * *

Killian had just finished his final song of the evening, setting his guitar down carefully next to the stage and walking over to the bar. He certainly needed a drink, the solo rendition of _Say Something_ causing him to recall the events of a few weeks ago, and at the present moment, he wasn’t sure how to comprehend them. After his conversation with Emma following the sudden engagement of her friend, he had fallen even harder for her, spending most of his time daydreaming about her smile, her gentle chuckle, the light touch of her hand pressed against his. Singing this song didn’t help either, and it caused the recent events to replay in his mind.

Regina had stopped by a few times with Emma, and while they only exchanged polite pleasantries and standard small talk, Emma was at least smiling, her eyes lighting up for a brief moment when they locked onto his. If nothing else, he could give her those small flickers of hope, and that thought alone made his heart swell and ache at the same time.

He slumped into the barstool, flagging down the bartender to order his usual drink, a glass of whiskey, but the drink was placed in front of him before he had a chance to speak. “I didn’t order anything yet, mate,” Killian spoke, pointing to the glass. The bartender just chuckled, nodding behind Killian. His head spun around, locking onto the steely brunette a few tables over.

“No, but she did,” the bartender spoke, pointing towards Regina. She waved teasingly at Killian, a small smirk escaping from her lips. “She was pretty adamant that you accept it, and that you join her.”

Killian stared at the bartender with a puzzled expression, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a large swig of the amber beverage. He grimaced as the burn trickled down his throat. He silently thanked the bartender, took the drink with him and headed towards Regina’s table, making his way through the group of young twenty-something girls ogling over his stride.

“Hello, Killian Jones,” Regina stated mockingly, pulling out the chair next to her and motioning for him to sit.

Killian began to nervously sip on his whiskey. “And you must be Regina. Emma's friend, right?” Regina nodded at his question. “The soon-to-be Mrs. Robin Sherwood, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He took her hand in his, kissing it politely.

Regina quickly snapped her hand back, gesturing again towards the chair. “Why don’t you take a seat, _mate_?” She demanded it tauntingly, and Killian obliged, taking a larger mouthful of whiskey to quell his apparent concern.

His fingers began to tap the edge of his glass. “What do you want, Regina?” His eyes remained glued to his whiskey, and an awkward silence fell between them. The air grew cold and confining as Killian waited for her to speak. He worried that maybe this was about Emma, and that Regina was here to tell him to stay away. He was a musician after all, living off a meager salary (and redeveloping his drinking problem as of late) and Regina was probably here to tell him to get lost. Maybe it was for Emma’s own good, or maybe Emma asked her to do it for her, so she wouldn’t have to bother doing it herself.

“I want you to promise me you won't give up on her,” Regina uttered, causing Killian’s gaze to snap up from his glass, his mouth slightly ajar with confusion.

“On who?” he asked, knowing exactly who she was speaking of, and yet trying to suppress his own eagerness at her request.

“Don't play stupid with me,” Regina scoffed, scooting her chair closer to Killian. “I see the way you look at Emma.” Killian chuckled lightly, realizing how perceptive Regina was, how she must have noticed the changes in Emma over the past few weeks. She was Emma’s best friend after all, and the sudden transformation in Emma’s attitude must have set off an alarm, leading Regina to this conclusion.

“And what makes you think I'm pursuing Emma?” he asked, combining his charming good looks with a mischievous sneer in order to hide his enthusiasm.

“Perhaps it's the way your face lights up when she enters the room, or the rather touching tributes you've been choosing to sing with your band,” she retorted, causing Killian’s mask of confidence to falter. “Either way, I know you feel something.”

“Well, even if I did,” he stated in a low, almost disheartened tone. “She's been pretty open about her opinions on love. I'm almost certain she feels nothing but mutual pity towards me.”

Regina shook her head, taking his hand softly in hers as Killian’s eyes began to widen. “I sincerely doubt that,” she said softly, her eyes pleading with him to listen. She let go of his hand when she noticed the way his body had tensed as a result of it. “Look, I've known Emma for years. We've been best friends since we were both freshmen in college. I know her. And I know how scared she gets.” Killian nodded in agreement, causing Regina to chuckle. “Which is probably why she's so hesitant around you. She's been hurt badly...”

“Aye, a previous relationship?” he interrupted, and Regina nodded in reply, breathing deeply before revealing a part of Emma’s life that only she and Robin knew of.

“She was with him for 5 years. They met in college, and they had all these dreams of a future together. After graduation, they moved into an apartment and he went on to grad school while she became a teacher. They had everything planned: when they’d get married, where they’d settle down, how many kids they’d have. But soon they turned into her dreams and he began to picture a future for himself that he couldn't imagine her being a part of. So he left her. Not because he found someone else, but because he didn't love her anymore and he couldn't spend the rest of his life loving her either,” Regina shook her head, calming herself from the speed with which she spoke. “It broke her heart, Killian.”

Killian stared on in astonishment, his heart breaking at what could only have been a traumatizing experience. He thought back to his own loss, and how disoriented he felt afterwards, how he cried for nights after her death, how he didn’t eat for months, how the circles underneath his eyes swelled to an embarrassing size, how his apartment—no, _their_ apartment—grew unkempt until he eventually hid everything of Milah’s, or threw it out, or worse, shattered it into a million pieces...

Except he knew he would never get her back no matter how angry or upset he got, because she _died_. He had no choice but to move on, because she was physically gone from him, forever. But for Emma, that wound could stay open because this man was still out there, moving on, finding happiness with someone else, without _Emma_. Killian was a sentimental man, more in tune with his feelings than the average male (most of which he attributed to being raised by a single mother, and being so close to Jane whilst growing up), and he bit his bottom lip to fight back the tears he felt welling up in his eyes, the tears he felt for Emma’s pain as well as his own.

“I... I... didn’t know,” Killian eventually stammered, disregarding the amount of silence he left in between their conversation.

“Of course not, because she'd never tell anyone,” Regina reassured him, seeing how much Killian was visibly affected by Emma’s experience. “Only Robin and I know the actual story. She tells everyone else they just grew apart, which is probably what she told you.”

“Aye, that she did,” Killian answered, feeling dejected at Emma’s lack of trust. He glanced down at his whiskey, lifting it to his lips and swallowing a stinging, yet comforting gulp of alcohol. He looked back up at Regina, trembling as he spoke, his own insecurities rising to the surface “Regina, if she is that broken, that hurt and that scared... how am I supposed to... I mean, how do I...” he mumbled as his sentence trailed off, his mind getting lost in his own worried thoughts. 

“By fighting for her. Supporting her. Being the hope that she so desperately needs,” Regina stated, and Killian’s mind sprung back to the discussion at hand. He grinned hopefully, as if he finally got the answer he needed.

“And you think?” he asked, needing yet another verbal confirmation.

“I know you'll break down those walls,” Regina said, taking Killian’s hand in hers again. “She already trusts you and I can see it written all over her face that she's happy around you, even if she doesn't say it.”

Killian shook his head, still in disbelief. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Regina chuckled, realizing how uncertain he was in this moment, when he was always so sure of himself up on that stage, hidden safely behind his guitar. And she smiled at how much he was _exactly_ like Emma. “Just promise me... you won't hurt my best friend,” she added softly, caressing his hand, noticing his body finally relax.

“I can assure you, I won't,” he said, with an ounce of confidence in his statement. “Only a fool would let her go.”

Regina turned around to search through her handbag for a small white invitation with navy blue lettering, which she placed firmly in front of Killian. The invitation read: _You are invited to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Robin Sherwood and Ms. Regina Mills_. Killian cocked his head to the side, tracing his fingers over the indentation the words left of the cream-colored stock paper.

“It’s our engagement party, at a restaurant in Little Italy,” Regina explained. “I do hope you’ll come. Robin would love to have you there.”

Regina sat up from the table, gathering her handbag and slipping into her long black coat, preparing herself for the cold night air with a matching scarf and gloves. “Oh, and if you want to ask Emma to go with you, I wrote the address of her school on the back,” she added with a smile and a wink, and his eyes widened at the sound of her name. “She usually leaves around 3.”


	5. Chapter 5

The bell rang at exactly 2:30 pm, causing Emma’s honors English class to jolt out of their seats, run out of the classroom, and head down the hallway to catch their school bus on time. Only a small amount of her seventh grade students walked home, considering the city didn’t trust kids to walk from Tribeca all the way to Battery Park and not get lost, kidnapped or worse. Those were usually the students who stuck around at the end of the day to wash her board, clean up the paper scraps from the floor or adjust the desks and chairs so the room looked semi-orderly.

Henry was one of those students, always willing to lend an extra hand. He came from a modest family, in which his parents weren’t too involved in the school and valued their careers more than their child’s education. Henry was an only child, and Emma found out very quickly that he was not only intuitive but also wise beyond his years. He reminded Emma a lot of herself at this very age—strong and clever with a wild imagination—and she took a liking to him after only a few days of school. He would usually stay later than the other students to debate some part of the book they were reading in class or complain to Emma about math homework he couldn’t understand.

“Ms. Swan?” Henry spoke up, interrupting Emma from the pile of tests she needed to grade.

“Yes, Henry?”

“I was just wondering,” he continued, shuffling the textbooks on the shelf by the windows. It was a clear day in the city, and the roar of city traffic was echoing up to her classroom. “Have you ever taken a risk?”

Emma’s head shot up from her desk, surprised by such a personal question coming from a young student. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to buy some time or maybe change the subject. She was kind with her students, always leaving her door open in case they needed a shoulder to lean on or a friend to talk to rather than a teacher, but all of a sudden she felt like her privacy was being awkwardly invaded.

“Well, I was just thinking about Bilbo Baggins,” he stated, and Emma began to chuckle lightly, sighing in relief that his question was prompted by their recent reading assignment.

“Right, of course,” she responded, calmly running her fingers through her hair before returning towards her work.

“He went across Middle Earth with a group of dwarves and a wizard,” Henry went on, explaining the book as if Emma had never read it. “And he fought orcs and spiders, and even a dragon!”

“What’s your point, Henry?” she asked teasingly.

“Well, none of that would have happened if he hadn’t taken a risk. If he hadn’t decided that morning to rush out of the Shire and follow the dwarves, he would have never become _the_ Bilbo Baggins.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “Yes, but think about what that journey did. He ended up with the ring, the one to _rule them all_. And because of that one decision he made, he ended up aiding the rebirth of evil in Middle Earth.”

Henry chuckled as he strolled towards the front row of desks, plopping himself down in one of the chairs. “So you’re saying had he stayed in the Shire and never left, then...”

“Then, we wouldn’t have had three more books and a blockbuster movie trilogy.”

“You’re right about that,” Henry responded, laughing. “So, back to my original question, Ms. Swan. Have _you_ ever taken a risk?”

She pretended to ignore him, continuing to grade some tests before placing the rest of the pile in her tote bag to work on at home. She allowed some time to pass, as she thought intently about his question. Gosh, had she really never taken a risk? Everything in her life was always so methodically planned out that she never felt the need to take one. Of course, she’d done things that were very unlike her, but never risky per se. Not even in college (and being best friends with “sorority sister Regina,” it’s a surprise she hadn’t).

“No, I can’t say that I have.” Emma looked up towards Henry, smiling lightly as she glanced at the time. 3 o’clock. She gathered her things and put on her coat and gloves as Henry mirrored her actions and headed towards the door. “Anyway, it’s time to go, Henry,” she ordered politely, opening the door and gesturing for him to leave. They both walked down the hallway in sync as they headed towards the exit.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Swan!” Henry shouted loudly over the roar of traffic, waving goodbye as he skipped down the sidewalk. She watched as he walked towards the stoplight, looked both ways, and crossed the street to head home.

She heaved the tote bag over her shoulder and headed for her apartment, thinking carefully about Henry’s question. In college, she always knew when she would complete homework or write papers, what classes she would take and when, how many credits she needed to reach each year to graduate on time. Even with Neal, she’d managed to plan every last detail of their future together, never taking a gamble on one aspect of their time together. From the onset of their relationship, it had somewhat bothered Neal how meticulous she was, but she always thought he wrote it off as one of her charming quirks.

She was startled from her thoughts when she looked down the sidewalk to see a tall figure leaning against the wrought iron fence surrounding the school. He was clad in a pair of dark jeans, a black leather jacket and some worn out high top sneakers. He leaned up against the fence with one foot perched on the iron bars as he fiddled with something in his hand. Her eyes blinked frantically, trying to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating as she focused in on him, and realized exactly who he was. _Oh shit_ , she thought, trying to think of a method to back away when his eyes peered up from his hands and locked on to hers.

“Killian?” She choked on her words, her throat unconsciously drying up. She was stunned to say the least, searching for a logical reason as to why he was _here_ , of all places.

“Oh, fancy meeting you here,” he stated, acting surprised by her presence, when she knew he was clearly doing it for show.

“You’re a terrible actor,” Emma sneered, storming away from him, feeling his eyes follow her intently. “What are you even doing here?”

“Well, Ms. _Swan_ ,” he began, using her surname mockingly, trying to catch up to Emma as she marched off. “I was just in the neighborhood and...”

She turned around swiftly, causing Killian to stumble into her. Emma didn’t realize how closely he had been following behind her, and now she was mere inches away from his body. “And what?”

“Would you like me to walk you home, m’lady?” Killian responded politely, trying to change the subject.

“I’m fine on my own, thank you very much,” Emma insisted, turning back around to head towards the stoplight. Killian continued to trail behind her, causing Emma to shake her head in frustration.

“Would you stop being so bloody stubborn?” he barked, jumping in front of her at the corner before she could step foot into the street. “Let me have your bag.” He held his hand out, nodding towards the heavy tote bag that was digging into her fragile shoulders. She studied his face: his expression one of insistence, his eyes begging her, his mouth open in the slightest bit of astonishment that she hadn’t slapped him already. She groaned, handing her bag over, watching as he cast it over his broad shoulder.

“What’s the real reason you’re here?” She continued to walk, crossing the street with Killian at her side, his stride growing longer as he tried to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Very perceptive, love,” he responded, as they made their way to the opposite corner.

Emma held her hand out in front of them, stopping Killian before he could move any further. “I’m serious, Killian,” she stated, her voice growing stricter.

Killian continued walking around her, scratching the back of his head, nervously searching for a laid-back way to begin. “Well, Regina invited me to the engagement party on Saturday—”

“She invited _you?_ ” She scoffed, her voice sounding slightly stunned, considering how little any of them knew him.

“Why yes,” he stated, trying to sound sure of himself, but his demeanor came off as phony. “As a matter of fact, she did.”

 _Goddamnit Regina,_ she thought, realizing that Regina most likely put him up to this, and that none of this was genuinely Killian’s idea. She made a note to argue with her best friend about this later. For now, she tried to make it seem like she wasn’t completely bothered by the notion. He was, after all, devilishly handsome with a smooth Irish accent and his presence at the event would likely make the night go by faster.

“Anyway, I... I was just wondering... um...” His sentence trailed off, as he tried to avert his gaze towards the street, his voice losing its usual confidence. He could feel Emma scrutinizing him, making him even more anxious than before. “Do you have a date for it?”

He blurted it out so quickly, that Emma almost didn’t hear it. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head, feeling his stomach lurch into his throat, and he had to swallow hard to get the words to come out again. “A date. Do you need a date?” Emma paused as she looked at him, completely and utterly baffled by his question. “God, woman, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Emma snickered, realizing her short-lived panic was making him go crazy, and she eventually shook her head. “No.”

Killian stood still, grinning a little bit, but still endearingly puzzled. “Is that a ‘No, I’m not trying to embarrass you’ or a ‘No, I don’t have a date?’”

Emma smirked, leaning into his body, trying her best to take control of the conversation. She noticed his breath hitch as she inched closer to his face and his eyes and his _lips_ , and it took every ounce of strength within her to not push him up against the cool, stone building and...

“Both,” she finally whispered, letting her thoughts subside as she exhaled into the space between them. She began walking again, leaving Killian slightly stunned. He eventually came out of his stupor and jogged down the street to catch up. “Why? Are you asking?”

Killian couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face, and Emma chuckled. “Yes, I think I am,” he stated playfully, his stride growing pretentious. They stopped when they reached the front of her building, and he bowed teasingly towards Emma. She shook her head, trying to hide the red in her cheeks and the smile on her lips.

“I’m not sure,” she said, hesitating to give him an answer.

“Come on, Emma,” he pleaded coyly, strolling towards her. “Don’t make me go to this thing alone. At least go as my mate.”

She contemplated his request a little while longer, wondering if this was a smart move. She thought back to her discussion with Henry about taking risks, about how taking those risks eventually shape you into the person you become. Every part of her life had been pre-planned up until now. And now, there was an attractive foreigner standing in front of her with a playful smile and a goofy attitude, trying to get her to take a risk on _him_.

“Alright,” she finally answered, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly overjoyed. “Pick me up around six, _mate_.”

He chuckled at her interpretation of his accent and the way it sounded Australian instead of Irish, but he decided to tease her about that later. He winked at her before handing off her tote bag. “It’s a date, love.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmqqaTU1ifw)

Emma was nervous as hell, to say the least, as she tried to get herself ready for the evening. _Half an hour ‘til he’s here_ , she thought as she paced throughout her apartment, frenzied and distracted. She had spoken to Regina once since her encounter with him, and Regina pretended to have nothing to do with the entire thing (which Emma knew was a blatant lie, but she played along if only for Regina’s amusement). She said it was Robin’s idea to invite him, and the fact that he asked Emma to go with him was just a pleasant coincidence.

Emma made her way into her bedroom, looking over her dresses for the evening: a loose-fitting black tunic with a lace overlay, a long, green gown with thin straps, or a crimson strapless dress that landed just above her knees. She bit her fingernails, her eyes darting between the three choices hanging on her closet doors, before giving up and returning to focus on her hair and makeup. She walked back to the bathroom, taking out the hot curlers in her hair and proceeding to place her makeup neatly on the counter. Her methodic routine was keeping her mind away from her bubbling anxiety as she tried to shove away her own thoughts. This was the first date she’d been on in almost a _year_. She tried to pretend like it was just a night out with a friend and nothing more. But she knew there was something there, or else she wouldn’t have felt inclined to say yes. The thought of him made her feel giddy, and yet she didn’t feel nearly as scared as she expected she would be.

She clipped her hair back on one side, misting a generous amount of hairspray over it and applied her usual make-up, adding a little bit of eyeliner and a modest coat of lip-gloss in a pinkish tint. She strolled back to her room, finally deciding on the strapless dress, and slipped it over her delicate frame before fiddling through her closet for a pair of black pumps. She stood tall in front of the mirror, staring at the almost unrecognizable girl in front of her. She smiled, realizing how much she’d changed in the past year. She was no longer the goal-driven girl who never led herself astray, who stuck to the plan no matter what. No, now she was taking a gamble on someone she’d only just met and she was leading herself down a path where the end result was a complete mystery...

The buzzer rang, and a voice echoed through her apartment. “Emma, it’s Killian.”

She froze, realizing that it was a quarter to 6, and he was early, and she wasn’t ready, and this was all too much too fast, and she could still back out. He certainly wouldn’t see her sneak out through the bathroom window, and after that she could climb down the fire escape, and— Emma gasped when she heard the buzzer ring again.

“Emma?” he said quietly, his voice unsure, as if he had the wrong apartment building (he’d texted her twice today: once to ask for the exact address, and then to ask for directions, which she assumed was his way of making sure Emma wouldn’t back out, so the tremble in his tone surprised her).

Emma’s legs began to move on their own accord, as she made her way towards the door and buzzed him in. “Sorry about that,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Come on up, apartment three-eleven.”

She scanned the living room to make sure everything was neat and orderly, as she didn’t want the place to reflect her own anxious mindset. She walked to the closet, searching for her coat, using the act to help distract herself. When she heard the light knock on the door, she jumped at the sound. He was _actually_ here, and this was _actually_ happening, and there was no turning back now. She breathed deeply, strolling towards the door, opening it slowly to reveal Killian, dressed in a fitted black suit, a crisp white button down shirt and a black and silver striped tie. His eyes gazed up from his shuffling feet, and froze on her figure. She was holding her coat in one hand, which left her rather skimpy ensemble in full view.

“You rea—” he began to say before his jaw dropped, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. He found himself at a loss for words, urgently searching for something appropriate to say beyond _Bloody hell, woman_.

“See something you like, mate?” Emma joked, raising an eyebrow at the way he gawked over her.

He smirked, as he leaned in to her. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Emma,” he murmured. He reached for her coat, holding it out for her as he slid it over her shoulders. He reached down for her hand, lightly tugging on it as he headed towards the door. “Shall we? I have a cab waiting for us downstairs.”

She had a split second to grab her handbag and turn off the lights as he led her outside and towards the awaiting cab.

* * *

They reached the party just as the other guests were arriving. Regina was sitting at a table, nuzzling into Robin’s shoulder as she talked to several family members surrounding her. The restaurant was a rather nice one, with tan brick walls and black marble tile on the floor. The tables were adorned with red and green tablecloths, and bouquets of white flowers were placed as the centerpiece of each one. It was incredibly Italian, and she laughed at how different it seemed compared to Regina’s usual taste. There was a small band performing at the front of the room, playing soft jazz music underneath the bustle of people acknowledging the happy couple.

“You’re finally here!” Regina exclaimed, ignoring the rambling family member at her side. She rushed towards Emma, hugging her tightly. Emma could tell her friend had had a few glasses of wine earlier since an over-bubbly bride-to-be replaced her usual steely demeanor. Emma took off her coat, handing it to Killian who wandered away to talk to Robin.

“Whoa,” Regina said, her eyes scanning Emma’s dress. “You’re dressed like a little hussy!” Regina placed her hand on her hip, pointing up and down at Emma’s figure.

“Shush, Regina,” Emma said, swatting at her friend. “Stop it.”

“You look good, Em,” Regina admired, sobering up a tiny bit before adding a witty remark. “And so does your _mate_.” She cocked her head towards Killian, who was chatting with Robin. Killian took a moment to glance towards Emma, smiling softly before returning his attention back to Robin.

“Yeah, he does,” Emma said, keeping her eyes locked on him for a moment longer than necessary, unconsciously biting her bottom lip with anticipation.

* * *

Emma was a few glasses of wine into the evening, causing any of her previous inhibitions to subside. The night had worn on as she expected, but the endless conversation with Killian caused the whole event to run smoother than she could have hoped. They chatted about her honors English class reading _The Hobbit_. He spoke about his band, and their vision for the future. She rambled on about her dance team and how they were gearing up for a performance in a few months, which caused his ears to perk up.

“Seems what your dance show needs is some live music,” he kidded, causing her eyes to roll.

“Are you and your band up for it?” she teased. “I mean, it’ll be a bunch of teenage girls.”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to expand our audience,” Killian considered. “We could use some groupies beyond you and Regina.” Emma elbowed him in the side playfully, causing Killian to wince in mock pain.

Emma shook her head, smiling at his playful behavior. “Just for that, you have no choice in the matter.” Killian only grinned, content with his “punishment.”

They were startled when the bandleader announced they were going to perform a special song, as he motioned towards Regina and Robin. The partygoers erupted into a loud cheer for the newly engaged couple, who embarked onto the dance floor. A few moments passed before the bandleader invited other couples to join them. Emma adjusted nervously in her seat, scanning the room as Regina’s parents got up to dance, as well as other members of her family and a few of Regina’s work friends. The jazz band began to play a relaxed version of _La Vie en Rose_ , as several of the saxophonists switched their instruments for flutes to intensify the intimate setting. Emma fidgeted with the napkin in her lap before she noticed Killian stand up.

“May I have this dance, m’lady?” Killian asked, holding his hand out in front of him, a large, goofy grin growing on his face.

Emma didn’t know whether to answer him or sass him. “Are you sure you can keep up?”

“I’ll do my best, ‘Ms. Dance Team,’” he responded mockingly. “Just promise you won’t chastise me for stepping on your feet, love.”

Emma laughed, one of those genuine ones that seemed to only come out around Killian, and he smiled even wider at how carefree she was in that moment. “I can’t make any promises.”

He took her hand in his, and she trailed behind him onto the dance floor, as a trumpet solo and a simple accompaniment echoed throughout the room. It had been such a long time since she’d danced this intimately with someone. Sure, she’d ballroom danced in college, and she’d performed with other dancers in much closer circumstances, but the whole concept of being this intimate with someone whom she was starting to feel comfortable around made her tense. Killian found a quiet spot on the dance floor and pulled her closer. He took her left hand and placed it around his neck before wrapping his right arm around her thin waist. He reached for her empty hand, entwining his fingers effortlessly with hers. She averted her gaze towards the band, watching as the singer approached the microphone to serenade them.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_  
 _The magic spell you cast_  
 _This is la vie en rose_

Killian must have sensed her apprehension, because he cleared his throat to get her attention. “When was the last time you slow danced?”

Emma’s forehead scrunched at the intrusiveness of his question, but the alcohol had gone to her head and she didn’t feel the need to argue with him over it. “About a year, give or take,” she answered quietly, keeping her gaze away from his.

“A previous relationship, perhaps?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Emma said, as she turned to look at him.

“I’m also very perceptive, love,” he countered, smiling encouragingly as he recalled the conversation he had with Regina.

_When you kiss me, heaven sighs_  
 _And though I close my eyes_  
 _I see la vie en rose_

She sighed, as she fought with the decision to tell him or not, and she wondered if her inkling to tell him was genuinely her decision or the wine’s.

“His name was Neal,” she spoke softly.

“Hmm?” he questioned, leaning forward.

“The previous relationship,” she continued, and he nodded in reply. “His name was Neal. We were together for five years.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about this,” she said, glancing towards Regina, who was nestled close to Robin’s chest. She wondered if she’d ever have that with someone, and she remembered a time when she thought for sure she would.

“I do, love,” Killian whispered. “ _Trust_ me.”

_When you press me to your heart_  
 _I'm in a world apart_  
 _A world where roses bloom_

Emma gazed deep into his eyes, trying to figure out who he was and what exactly he was doing with someone like her, all broken and scarred, when he could probably have any girl he wanted. She felt her throat close up, as she realized his sentiment was sincere, and braced herself for the painful recollection of events.

“Well,” she began, clearing her throat. “When he left, it wasn’t because he cheated on me or did something bad. He just... _left._ ”

Killian frowned, pulling Emma a little closer to his chest. He bent down to whisper into her ear, his exhale tickling the exposed skin on her neck. “That’s his loss.”

_And when you speak, angels sing from above_  
 _Everyday words seem to turn_  
 _Into love songs_

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders indifferently. “I know, but even after a year, the wound feels just as fresh. It’s hard to think that somebody just stops loving you, that you mean nothing to them anymore.”

“That it is, love,” he responded, his heart breaking for the anguish she must still feel.

“I still think of him from time to time. Sometimes I still pretend I'm going to walk into my apartment and find him there, like we're still together. It helps me get through the day, or those little events in life that he should be a part of. Like this,” she explained, noticing as Killian nodded politely, but his eyes showed a different emotion. She gasped when she detected the disheartened stare apparent in his eyes, and she realized exactly what she had blurted out.

 _Like this_.

“I’m sorry. It just... came out. You probably think I'm crazy now,” she rattled off.

Killian gripped her hip tighter, pulling her body nearer to his. “No, I don’t,” he muttered. “Believe me, I don’t.”

_Give your heart and soul to me_  
 _And life will always be_  
 _La vie en rose_

Emma’s expression grew alarmed, as they continued to sway while the singer finished his serenade and the trumpet player improvised over the final bars of the song. The crowd applauded as the band, led by the trumpet solo, ended the song. The singer’s voice rang through the microphone, congratulating the blissful couple gushing over one another in the middle of the dance floor. Emma felt her anxiety creep up, faster than usual, and she hastily let go of Killian’s grasp and headed towards their table. She began to gather her things as she prepared herself for a discreet exit.

 _Like this._ How could she be so stupid? She’s here with Killian, not freaking _Neal_. God, she must have made him feel like a complete fool. He probably thought she spent the whole date thinking of someone else. But it wasn’t until Killian brought him up that she actually thought about Neal. In fact, the whole entire day she had only one thought on her mind... one singular person who consumed her thoughts since she woke up...

 _Killian_.

“Something I said, love?” Killian asked, seeking a reason for her unusual behavior.

“No, it’s... it’s just me. I’m sorry. I have to go,” she responded, fidgeting with her belongings.

“ _Emma_ ,” he murmured, his eyes imploring her to stay as she continued to scan the room, looking for an escape. “Hey... hey... Look at me.”

He reached out and lifted her chin, causing her to gasp. He leaned closer, forcing her to study his caring expression. She bit her bottom lip hard, shaking her head, trying to force the anxiety away, trying to blink away the tears brimming in her eyes. He moved forward to gently take her handbag from her, placing it down on the table as he reached for her coat. He motioned for her to turn around and helped her slip her arms into it, his strong hands softly caressing her shoulders. She exhaled deeply, fumbling for his hand, finally letting out a long sigh when he interlaced his fingers with hers. His thumb brushed lightly over her hand, as he led her towards Regina and Robin to say goodnight.

“Are you both leaving?” Robin asked Killian, and he nodded in reply, watching as Regina swiftly pulled Emma aside to gossip. The two women huddled with their backs towards their respective men, and Killian assumed Regina was asking about the outcome of their evening together.

“I saw you two dancing,” Robin stated, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye, that we did,” Killian responded, continuing to gaze towards Emma.

“Tough lass, isn’t she?” Robin joked with him, a small smirk escaping his lips.

Killian let out a breathy chuckle, as he nodded his head in agreement. He thought of everything that had transpired over the past few weeks. He knew he couldn’t get her out of his mind, and he hadn’t felt this content in a long time. He knew she was beginning to trust him, enough to tell him about Neal, enough to not run off when her anxiety overwhelmed her. At least for now, she saw him as a friend, a companion, someone to depend on.

He noticed when Emma glanced towards him, pleading with him that she was ready to go, because Regina seemed to blabbering on and on about something. Killian shook hands with Robin, exchanging goodbyes before strolling towards Emma and leading her out. She was sure to be a challenge, but it was one he was certainly ready for. For the first time since Milah’s passing, he felt like he was ready to fall for someone. And with Emma, he was falling hard.


	7. Chapter 7

“How about this?” Regina mentioned, holding up a ghastly pink taffeta gown. Emma peaked from behind the dressing room curtain, afraid of what she’d find. They had been shopping for hours in search of a dress for the bridesmaids, since Emma had been bestowed with the title of maid of honor, but everything Regina had picked out was completely and utterly horrifying. Emma took one look at the ugly sight Regina held in her hands and raised her eyebrows in protest.

“Hell no,” she shouted. She glared in the direction of the other women in the bridal salon, who were beside themselves laughing at how absolutely ridiculous it looked.

Regina giggled, throwing the ugly gown towards Emma. “Just try it on, for me. Pretty please?” Regina asked, pouting in protest. Emma pulled the curtain closed, snorting loud enough so Regina could hear her.

She grumbled as she slipped into what she could only describe as an oversized cupcake. “The things I do for you, Regina,” she muttered, as she looked down at herself, groaning in horror at how absolutely ugly this dress was. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I look like a freaking cake!”

Regina cackled at Emma’s description, apparently enjoying the endless parade of obscene dresses. “Just come out already. I could use a good laugh.”

Emma did as Regina asked, holding her arms out at her side as the oversized dress consumed her small frame. Emma turned around to glance in the mirror, and immediately hung her head, cradling it in her hands.

“There is no way I am wearing this to your wedding,” she hissed, trying to make sense of the pounds of tulle hanging from her delicate waist.

“Oh, but I like it so much!” Regina teased, smirking widely. “Come on, Em. Think of how much wine we could hide under these layers!” Regina strolled up to Emma and began ruffling the skirt, trying to exaggerate how absurd Emma looked.

“Nope, not happening,” Emma snapped, shooing Regina away from her. “I’m not wearing this so you can smuggle booze into your own wedding.” She marched back towards the dressing room, having to pick up the million or so layers so she wouldn’t fall flat on her face.

Regina grabbed a green cocktail dress with a gaudy black flower from her assortment of poor fashion choices. “Here’s another one,” she said, catching Emma off guard as she stormed off. “Try it on.”

“You have god-awful taste,” Emma sneered, snatching the dress out of Regina’s hand and closing the curtain forcefully. “The color of this one makes it look like someone puked all over it.”

“Well, what color would you like, dear?” Regina asked, obviously in jest because it was _her_ wedding after all and Emma’s opinion mattered just about as much as Robin’s did (which would explain the ‘Good luck’ and the pitiful laugh as they left).

Emma slipped out of the cupcake dress, contemplating Regina’s question as she slipped into the green one. She didn’t really have a favorite color, and out of the tons of dresses in her own closet (that looked a hundred times better than anything in this godforsaken store), she couldn’t really choose one. When she thought about the question for a moment longer, only one color stood out in her mind...

_Blue._

That was literally all she could think about. Something so blue that you could get lost in it, with a slight shimmer that made your heart skip a beat...

“Uh, blue,” she choked out unconsciously, wondering where the _hell_ it came from. 

Regina smiled, turning around to a different rack where she eventually found a long sapphire dress and held it out to examine it. The dress was sleek with thin shoulder straps. The top had a few layered bunches of fabric that added some contrast to the otherwise ordinary dress. It was simple, but that seemed to be what Regina liked most about it and she was sure Emma would as well.

Emma exited the dressing room to show off the green selection, and she instantaneously moaned in frustration when she saw her reflection. “Nope, this one makes me look like the Wicked Witch of the West. I refuse!”

Regina waltzed out from behind the racks, surprising Emma with the blue gown. She displayed it neatly across her hands for Emma to see and Emma gasped, snatching the dress swiftly from Regina to hold it out in front of her.

“Yes! Freaking yes! Finally!” she exclaimed, beaming with delight. She held the dress against her chest, wrapping the hanger around her head so it would lay flush against her frame.

“Oh, it’s perfect, Em” Regina agreed, squeezing Emma’s shoulders lightly. “Why don’t you go try it on? This Elphaba get-up is a sight for sore eyes.” Emma smirked in agreement, as Regina nudged her towards the dressing room with the gown in tow.

Emma stared at the blue one, sighing. It reminded her of something familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something so blue that it left an impression on you the moment you gazed upon it. It made your knees go weak and your breath hitch and your pulse quicken and...

“So, when are you and Robin thinking of getting hitched?” she blurted out, trying to get her mind to stop unwillingly racing, not realizing that her hands had grown clammy and her throat had closed up, her words sounding oddly hoarse as she spoke them. She awkwardly rubbed her palms together, trying to dry them without soiling the dress.

“Soon,” Regina answered faintly, and Emma could tell she had walked back to the racks to look at other dresses. “His parents are older and it’s harder for them to travel from England these days. Robin’s afraid of waiting too long, and he’d like for both of his parents to see the ceremony.”

“So how soon is _soon_?” Emma asked, gently smoothing the dress out against the front of her body.

“This spring,” Regina responded, as her voice shifted closer to the dressing room. “We plan on visiting a few venues in Jersey that have the kind of availability we need.”

“That should be fun,” Emma said, as she twirled a little bit in the dressing room, grinning widely at how snug the gown felt draped around her body. “Will his brother be going to the wedding?”

“Little John?” Regina questioned, laughing a little bit at the sound of his name. John was anything but little. Contrary to his nickname, John was a big, burly bloke with shaggy unkempt hair and a bushy beard. He was the complete opposite of Robin in every way, and it was anything but surprising that they came from the same womb. She smiled to herself, remembering that Robin’s little brother would be the best man, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her brawny future brother-in-law escorting Emma down the aisle. “Yes, he’ll be there. Remember, he’s your date, for the evening. You know, unless you can find someone else...”

“Huh?” Emma asked as she swiftly opened the curtain to flaunt the sapphire number with pride. “What did you—”

“Oh, it’s perfect! You look absolutely stunning, Em!” Regina shouted, interrupting Emma. She began to jump with enthusiasm, and her eyes filled with joy as she prodded Emma towards the mirror to gawk. “ _Although_ it’s no little red dress, but I suppose it’ll do,” Regina added with a wink.

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” Emma asked cheekily, raising an eyebrow towards her.

Regina shook her head, a small smirk escaping from her lips. “Never,” she stated in a voice that sounded rich with evil intent. “Now, go change out of that so we can order it already. I’ve got to get one for you, Ruby, Belle and Mary.” Regina did a little dance of joy, as she pulled out her phone to snap a picture of Emma for the other ladies could see.

Emma chuckled, proceeding to walk back to the dressing room. She slipped out of the dress, placing it delicately on the hanger as she methodically redressed herself, sitting down on the bench to slip on her boots.

Regina cleared her throat from the other side of the curtain, leaning casually against the wall. “So, have you spoken to Killian since—”

Emma could sense the curiosity in Regina’s voice, so she answered quickly, hoping Regina would drop the subject. “Since your party? No.”

“Why not?” Regina demanded, and Emma swiftly opened the curtain, one hand on her hip with the dress hanging over her free arm.

“I don’t know,” she responded with sarcasm. “He’s just a friend.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Oh, _come on_. I see the way he looks at you, all wide-eyed and downright smitten. It’s entirely obvious, if you ask me, that he’s got feelings for you.”

Emma swatted at Regina’s shoulder. “He’s just a friend! I swear!” She tried to hide the blush rising on her cheeks, and the bright smile that crept up on her lips, but she was failing miserably, and Regina could see right through it.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never thought of him as something more?” Regina insisted, her nosiness irritating Emma.

“First of all, I barely know him,” she quipped, as she shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “And secondly, we’re just friends.”

“And yet, you felt comfortable enough to go as his date to my party,” Regina stated firmly.

She made an extremely valid point, and Emma sighed in frustration. Her mind battled for a plausible explanation to rationalize that pesky little fact. It was, in fact, a date. Killian had come to her apartment, picked her up, ate dinner with her, held her hand, he even slow danced with her. It was a _date_ , despite how much she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t. Had her and Killian gone on a normal one, like coffee or lunch, away from Regina’s prying eyes, she could have easily made up some lame excuse as to why she wasn’t calling him again. But in fact, she had no real excuse, beyond her own insecurities.

The mere thought of actually falling for Killian made her heart swell and her stomach lurch. She didn’t feel quite ready to jump into something so _serious_. Yet, it had been a whole _year_ since...

And Emma couldn’t quite explain the way Killian made her feel...

She knew she was happy around him, but was it...

Whatever it was, she wasn’t quite ready to share that with Regina.

“Yeah, but as _friends_ ,” she finally responded in a commanding tone.

Regina grinned widely, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re using that term ‘friends’ an awful lot,” she said in a singsong manner, mockingly raising her hands in quotations. “Or as he would say, _mates._ ”

“What the hell is your problem?” Emma barked, as she marched past Regina. A few of the other women darted their heads towards them causing Emma to quicken her pace in an attempt to avoid Regina’s interrogation.

Regina suddenly snagged Emma’s wrist, causing her to tumble backwards. She caught herself before she slammed into Regina, attempting to wriggle out of Regina’s firm grasp, but Regina locked her eyes onto Emma’s, her grip growing tighter.

“Look, Emma, I see a spark between both of you,” Regina spoke softly, her voice sounding sincere and honest, her eyes pleading with Emma. “For the first time in a year, I’ve seen you smile again. I don’t want you to miss out on something that I think could make you really happy, if you let it. That’s all.” Regina’s grip on Emma’s wrist loosened and she stepped closer to take the dress out of Emma’s hands, walking away.

Emma stood alone, slightly stunned by Regina’s comment. It bothered her how well her friend knew her, but Regina was right, and that bothered her even more. _Maybe I am ready,_ she thought, before shaking her head, trying to brush away the thought.


	8. Chapter 8

The cold of winter had melted into a brisk spring, and Emma’s talk with Regina had ultimately resulted in her spending more time with Killian, routinely meeting him after school once a week for a cup of coffee or a bite to eat before she headed home. It was a nice break from Regina’s bridezilla behavior, which was driving Emma crazy, and her friendly meetings with Killian gave them the opportunity to grow closer than before.

She smiled lightly as she thought of their meaningful conversations, where he talked about his sister and her fashion career, his brother’s wife and kids, his kind-hearted mother, everything about his life back in Ireland. It made her heart ache, however, when she thought of the life he had, and how different it was from hers. She grew up in foster care, had barely anyone care for her aside from teachers and a small group of friends that came in and out of her life like revolving doors. She jumped from one home to another, having lived in all five boroughs of the city before the age of twelve, and never really had someone to rely on, not until she met Regina, who became the sister she never had, and then even more so when she met Neal.

Emma found herself opening up to Killian about all of this, confiding in him about her own insecure past. He said once before he had experienced pain like hers, the immense anguish of loss and heartbreak, but he had yet to reveal that past to her, just continued to let her ramble on about her own. It was a part of her life that even Regina didn’t know in full, and it didn’t surprise Emma in the least that she disclosed it to Killian.

It was something about his eyes when her speech finally broke, _Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn’t it?_

When she nodded in agreement, shrugging indifferently, as if the absence of love in her life should be an accepted fact, he astounded her with, _I fully intend to change that, love_.

While they were still just friends, she could feel something bubbling deep down inside, an L-word that she wasn’t quite ready to hear, but she was at least glad to have him in her life, in whatever form that may be. She was pleased with how gentle he was being with her, letting her make the plans, allowing her to call the shots, and it left her bewildered at the amount of control she had in the situation. He was always surprising her, and his mysterious edge kept her captivated by his every word.

“How does it look so far, Ms. Swan?” one of the dancers shouted, and Emma almost forgot she was in the auditorium at school, prepping the girls for the upcoming dance show. The graduating members were rehearsing the final dance, a tradition she started when she began working here. The girls got to pick the song and added to the choreography, so it became a custom that the whole school community looked forward to.

Emma glanced over at the clock, hanging loosely on the wall. It was about 4 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, and she was absolutely worn-out, as she sat with her knees wrapped close to her chest, her sweat drenched body suit and yoga pants sticking to her skin like saran wrap. Her head perked up from her seat nestled in the back of the large hall. “So far, it looks good. I think we’re on our way to a great show, and I think this dance will be a really magnificent finale.”

She lifted herself up from her seat slowly, her bones aching from lack of sleep and an overwhelming workload, and she seriously couldn’t wait to get home, fully intending to cuddle up under a soft blanket and drift off to sleep.

The older girls began to talk amongst each other as they packed up their things, the younger girls complimenting them and offering up suggestions whilst skipping towards the exit. Emma made her way towards the stage with the intent to quickly pack up her things so she could head home, when she heard a door swing open and then shut lightly on the far side of the auditorium. She assumed it was one of the girls, coming in to pick up some item they had forgotten or the janitor emptying the trash, so she ignored the intruder.

“Did you leave some... thing?” Emma began to ask, as her words trailed off and her jaw dropped when she realized exactly who was standing there. He stood at the far side of the auditorium, dressed in a long black coat, his hair slightly ruffled on top of his head. His chin was still covered in a layer of well-maintained facial hair, and he had the same foolish grin on his face. Emma blinked furiously, wondering if she was hallucinating, but there was no denying who he was. She dropped her bag in shock when the name reached the tip of her tongue. “Neal?”

“Hey, Em,” he said, his voice low and unsure, as he walked down the aisle towards Emma.

Emma passed her fingers through her hair, nervously fidgeting with the strands in an effort to calm herself. She swallowed hard, desperately attempting to form words. Her mind raced with scenes from their break-up, and she felt like she was going to faint.

Panic.

_I can’t do this anymore, Em. I haven’t felt like I used to. And it kills me to have to do this to you, because I still care about you._

_Oh, like hell you do._

Escape.

_I’m leaving now. I can’t stay here tonight._

_Please don’t go. Just stay tonight, Neal. Please. PLEASE! I love you!_

Get out.

_I just can’t. I don’t love you anymore._

_What do you mean you don’t love me anymore?_

Run.

_You’ll be fine without me._

_Please don’t leave me. I don’t know how to be Emma without Neal. Don’t go!_

The words were pounding in her head as if someone were screaming them, and she finally felt herself come to her senses when her back bumped into the upright piano  in front of the stage.

“When did you... why are you... how did you even get in here?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion and hesitation.

“I told the guard at the front I was coming in to pick you up. He said he remembered me from last year. How are you, Em?”

His stride was cocky, as he made his way down the rows, coming closer and closer and Emma felt her throat grow tighter and tighter as she scanned the room for a getaway, but the only way out was the door he came in and she knew he wouldn’t let her get past him without an explanation.

“I’m... I’m fine,” Emma choked out, as Neal strolled towards her. She threw her hands out in front of her. “STOP! What the hell are you doing here?”

Neal’s bravado faltered and he froze, hands fidgeting with the buttons on the front of his coat. “I wanted to talk to you,” he sighed, as his eyes glanced away from hers for a second, and then back. They were filled with so much fear, and she could only imagine the amount of nerve it took for him to come here. And yet, she didn’t really care. She just wanted him to leave.

“About what?”

“Can we sit and have this conversation?”

“Fine,” Emma answered, gesturing to the auditorium seats in front of her. Neal smiled, nodding in agreement before sitting down.

Neal chuckled as he watched Emma sit at the piano bench. “Really, Em?” he joked as he motioned towards the large instrument slightly obstructing his view of her.

“Talk,” Emma commanded, smiling weakly, comforted that the piano created a never-ending distance between them.

Neal breathed deeply, biting his bottom lip. “Sure, it’s what I came here for.”

Emma noticed his eyes glaring in every which direction but hers, and she wondered what the hell he could have to say to her after a _year_. A whole freaking _year_. A year since he left. A year since he abandoned her. A year since he took her heart and shattered it into a million pieces for no good reason except his own selfish ones. Was he here to say he was sorry? That he shouldn’t have done it? _Too little too late_ , she thought.

“I’ve been miserable this past year. Absolutely miserable,” he began to say. _You don’t even know the definition of miserable,_ Emma thought, as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “And I couldn’t figure out why until I realized...”

His eyes began to skim the space around her, until they locked onto hers, making her feel uncomfortable. She trembled, inhaling deeply as she wondered if he would say the exact words she had waited forever to hear. And yet, she cursed under her breath, hoping he wouldn’t and that he would just evaporate into thin air, and this would be all some sort of bad dream.

“It was because I didn’t have you.”

Emma’s whole body tensed as she watched the words roll off his lips. They hung in the air like a thick fog, and she felt like she was suffocating under the weight those words held.

“A year ago,” he continued, seeming to ignore Emma’s bewilderment. “I couldn’t see a future with you because frankly, I couldn’t see my own.”

Emma finally exhaled the breath she forgot she was holding in. “And now?” she uttered softly.

“And now, I realize how stupid I was to let you go,” Neal said, his expression pleading with Emma, but the words felt stale coming from him. “I realize how ridiculous and crazy I must have been to leave you. You were the only person who ever believed in me, who loved me uncondit—”

“What are you saying, Neal?” Emma interrupted, causing Neal’s forehead to wrinkle in confusion. Neither of them spoke for a while, electing to remain in a silence teeming with uncertainty for what felt like an eternity.

Neal finally broke through the stillness like a blade slicing through skin. “I’m asking you to give me, give _us_ , a second chance. A fresh start.”

_A fresh start,_ Emma repeated in her head. Her eyes widened, as she contemplated his request. Was he kidding? Could he seriously think that after a year, she would even want to? She had spent so long trying to just move on, and now he wanted a fresh start, a second chance. She had dreamt of this every night for months after he left, praying for this exact moment and now it had come. It was actually happening and all she could think was...

“No,” she finally blurted out.

Neal choked on his own breath, slapping his hands against his knees in aggravation. “I’m sorry. What?”

“No,” she repeated as she felt a smile creep up, aware that it was growing into a full grin.

“Em... _Em..._ you can’t be serious,” Neal pleaded with her, bringing his hands up to his face.

“But I am, Neal,” she stated calmly, causing him to peer up at her from above his fingertips. “When you left, I never thought I'd get over it. I never thought I could be happy again. But I’m happy now, without you. All of those things I felt because of you, the heartbreak and the loneliness, I don't want to feel like that ever again.”

Neal stared at the ground, not wanting to accept her decision. “Em, I promise, I will never hurt you again,” he murmured as he gazed up at her. “Trust me.”

Emma stared deep into his eyes, contemplating those two words: _Trust me_. She’d heard them before, when they were rich with understanding and full of tenderness and care, but from Neal’s mouth, they held no significance. She could sense in his eyes that he didn’t truly mean it, that he was grappling for anything to get her to believe him. He probably hadn’t expected her to turn him down, and now he was improvising, saying anything that came to his mind to convince her otherwise.

“I don’t believe you,” Emma stated, shaking her head.

“Goddamnit Emma!” he shouted, pushing himself up as the loud squeak of the seat combined with his voice boomed throughout the empty hall. “ _I_ mean it.”

Emma gasped in horror at the rage in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. She kept herself calm, ringing her hands together in her lap. “Your eyes say you don’t,” she whispered, and Neal sat back down in his seat, huffing exasperatedly. “Believe me, I have dreamt of this exact moment, of you wanting me back, loving me again. And in every dream I always take you back, and everything always works out.”

“So what’s wrong?” Neal asked, his voice sounding more vulnerable than she was used to. He was always so confident, and now he looked like a small child being disciplined. It made her almost feel sorry for him.

“Because now that it's really happening, all I can think of is 'no.'”

Neal sighed in despair. “So that’s it? It’s just over?”

Emma smirked, as she felt an enormous amount of power wash over her. This was her leaving him. This was her abandoning him. This was her making him feel the way she had. “It's been over. You moved on, and now, so have I.”

Neal stood up, walking closer to Emma in an effort to plead with her. He leaned down onto one knee and grasped her hands in between his cold palms. “At least, let me take you out for a drink or something,” he begged, his speech growing faster. “Give us a shot!”

“I did!” Emma roared, pulling her hands violently away from him. “You had me for five freaking years, Neal! You could have had me _forever_ and you blew it!”

“Come on!”

“I think you should leave,” she muttered, pointing harshly towards the exit.

“Em—”

Emma waved her finger again, this time with an increased energy and Neal lifted himself up from the floor, trying to make sense of their exchange. Emma averted her eyes from him, knowing that if she even looked at him for a mere second, she’d lose all of the strength she had only a moment ago and fall back into what felt like a cage.

He walked towards the exit, turning around once to look at her before he left, a sense of defeat plaguing his expression. “My offer still stands if you change your mind.”

Emma didn’t acknowledge him, just continued to stare blankly at the piano keys. She only looked up when she was sure he was gone. That’s when the tears came, flowing uncontrollably until she couldn’t get them to stop. She wasn’t sure if the tears were from sadness, because she didn’t feel sad. She didn’t feel the way she did when he left the first time. These tears felt different, and she reached up to touch her lips, tracing the outline of what she could only describe as a smile. She was smiling. And then she began to laugh, one of those loud cackles that get people locked away for insanity. It reverberated throughout the hall against the echo of her sobs. For the first time, she finally felt _free_. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cA9opGMk92o)

Emma strolled down the sidewalk towards Robin’s bar, wondering if this was a smart decision. She couldn’t stay at home, not after the nightmare of her afternoon with Neal. Neal had no right to come to her school and make those outrageous proclamations towards her. He couldn’t possibly think she would want him back, could he? No, not after the stunt her pulled over a year ago. And if he did, then he was out of his mind. She couldn’t just rush back into his arms, pretend like she didn’t suffer agonizing heartbreak, and give him a “fresh start.” No, she couldn’t.

Emma could hear the noisy buzz of the bar as she got closer, noticing the bar’s small patio filled with people, the warm night air opening it up to accommodate the overflow of people. She opened the door, wading through the overcrowded establishment, brushing past groups of drunken twenty-somethings, and heading straight for the counter.

Killian’s band was there, playing a rendition of _All Along the Watchtower_ , the bar dimly lit as a small crowd gathered around the stage. She was certain he couldn’t have seen her walk in, as she took her thin leather coat off, shuffling into a seat in the far corner.

The bar was bustling with more people than usual, the spring-like weather drawing out a new, younger crowd than she generally encountered. She realized how long it had been since she was here, considering lately she didn’t need the pretense of a bar trip to meet with Killian. She pushed past a group of younger women who were swaying and clapping along with the music, and she locked eyes with the bartender a moment later, ordering up a rum and coke. She sipped on it slowly, sighing as the alcohol tingled throughout her body. This was exactly what she needed to relax. Neal? Neal who?

Her eyes gazed up from her drink, locking on to Killian, who was strumming along while a few of the other musicians improvised over the chord changes. He looked different than usual, trading his typical plaid get-up for a black shirt and gray cardigan, a black beanie strewn over the top of his head. He looked _hot_ , for lack of a better word, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off his figure, watching as he cleared his throat to sing the final lines of the song, leading the band to the end in an almost clumsy manner. The crowd didn’t seem to mind, as the band awaited Killian’s final nod before finishing together in a loud unison. The band erupted into a roar of laughter, cutting through the awkward silence after they completed, and Killian shook hands with some of his band mates before strolling up to the microphone to shout, “Thank you and goodnight!” in one of the daftest voices she’d ever heard.

The lights began to flicker on in the bar, and as usual, the room began to hum with chatter. She didn’t see Robin here, and it took a second before she remembered he and Regina were down at the Jersey Shore, finalizing plans at the wedding venue, the big day quickly approaching.

“Emma!” she heard from across the bar, noticing the scruffy musician breaking through the crowd, striding towards her.

“What do you want, Killian?” she asked in a sardonic tone, noticing as he slid into the chair next to her, back pressed against the countertop. She bit her lip, realizing how absolutely irresistible he looked, and she detected the jealous stares coming from the women around her. _Back off_ , she thought instinctively.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was merely ordering a drink,” he quipped sarcastically, his cerulean eyes scanning her slender frame, smirking at the shortness of her skirt, the transparency of her dark stockings and the slouchy shirt that hung slightly off her delicate shoulder, revealing a small lacy strap. He licked his lips eagerly, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“A girl can’t come drink alone at a bar?” she countered back, a grin forming on her lips when her eyes locked onto the small patch of hair revealing itself at the top of his chest, the tight fabric outlining his firm stomach.

“Not when the lady is as well-mannered as yourself,” he sneered, causing Emma to shake her head. “And besides, if you’re going to drown your sorrows away in the bottom of a glass, you might as well drink the good stuff.” He banged on the countertop, as one of the bartenders stirred, making his way towards them. “Two shots of Jameson,” he ordered, nodding towards Emma. “And put whatever the little lady wants on my tab.”

“You’re quite the gentleman,” she teased, rolling her eyes.

Killian inched closer to her, his exhale close enough to trace her skin. He smelled like whiskey already, and the spice of his skin wafted in her direction. She felt drunk from his presence, and she wasn’t even halfway through her own drink. “Oh, I’m always a gentleman,” he purred, sending a slight shiver down her spine at his inflection. She hummed reluctantly, catching the sound in her throat before he could hear it. “So who are we drowning this evening, love?”

* * *

“This bloke seriously just waltzed into your school, like a dim-witted prick, and asked for you back?” Killian probed, smiling smugly as he downed another shot. She giggled, noticing how the alcohol caused him to become so very Irish, his accent stronger than usual.

“Yep,” Emma responded, chugging her own shot, her face twisting at the slight burn it caused in her throat.

She looked at the array of empty shot glasses displayed in front of them and groaned at how dizzy her head felt. She hadn’t realized how many shots of whiskey they had guzzled down, and he didn't seem like he was keeping track either. She was sure going to pay for this in the morning.

“What a blasted arse!” he cried, banging the table in frustration.

“You could say that again,” she muttered under her breath, as the hoods of her eyes began to close unwillingly, the ache from her long afternoon resurfacing in her bones.

“Well, enough of this bloody chatting,” he said, gesturing towards his band mates who were flirting with the same group of girls who surrounded her before. “I’m going to set up a mic so you can sing with us.”

“Oh, hell no,” Emma responded, wagging her finger in his face, squinting her eyes in that way only drunk people did.

“Lighten up, Emma,” he retorted, standing up to head towards the stage. “Now, you can either be a stubborn lass and sit here in your own self-pity _or_ you can come up and sing with me. Your choice.”

She pretended to contemplate his request for a moment before answering. “Nope. I’m sitting right here.”

Killian chuckled, rubbing his chin in scrutiny before grabbing her by her midsection and tossing her over his shoulder, vehemently carrying her to the stage.

“Jesus Christ! Put me _down_ , Killian!”

“Nope. You’re staying right here,” he said, mocking her earlier statement, his forceful behavior going unnoticed by the other bar patrons. He placed her down abruptly on her own two feet when they’d reached the stage, and she grumbled under her breath as he rearranged a pile of music, tugging Emma closer to see. “Pick a song, lass.”

“I already told you. I’m not singing,” she replied, crossing her hands over her chest.

He chuckled warmly. “Okay, fine. But if you were to sing, which one would you pick?” he asked, trying to trick her into the situation.

She shuffled through the papers, settling on a Radiohead tune from the ’90s. “This one,” she responded, casting one of his trademark smirks in his direction. “Describes how you’re acting right now.”

“Ignoring the cheeky comment,” he said, countering her smirk with his devilishly mischievous one, and she wanted nothing more than to slap it right off ( _Or do other things to it_ , she thought). He slung his guitar over his broad shoulder, the strap catching on the bottom of his shirt, revealing an inch or two of his taut abdomen.

“You really think I should sing?” she asked, trying to get his attention as he prepped the band for the song, desperately trying to avert her eyes from his exposed skin.

“Only if you feel comfortable, love,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy as the beginning chords of the song began to sound from their instruments. “Unless you’d rather stand here and swoon over me.”

Emma rolled her eyes, and he laughed again, before leaning towards the microphone. “Alright, one last number for you guys this evening and we’re going to try to get this lovely lass to sing with us,” he announced, winking impishly at her, before crooning the lyrics, stealing glances every so often between words.

_When you were here before_  
 _Couldn't look you in the eye_  
 _You're just like an angel_  
 _Your skin makes me cry_

He nodded towards the microphone in front of her and she shook her head nervously. He shrugged apathetically, startling when her feeble voice rang throughout the bar, growing with intensity as she sang the words with more conviction.

_You float like a feather_  
 _In a beautiful world_  
 _I wish I was special_  
 _You're so very special_

He grinned, bouncing joyfully along with the music, as Emma’s voice grew louder beside the accented instrumentals. He strummed a few chords with rising strength, the sound vibrating out of the amps surrounding the stage, as Emma and Killian echoed each other’s phrases, harmonizing on the final words of the chorus.

_Oh, but I'm a creep_  
 _I'm a weirdo_  
 _What the hell am I doing here?_  
 _I don't belong here_

Emma assertively purred the next verse into the microphone, smirking alluringly towards Killian, who was absolutely gobsmacked by her demeanor, his eyes soft and wide as he raised an eyebrow when her seductively pleasant moans resonated through the room. This was a side he had yet to see of her, and he couldn’t help but want more.

_Oh, I don't care if it hurts_  
 _Mm, I want to have control, oh, oh_  
 _And I want a perfect body_  
 _I want a perfect soul_

Emma grinned wickedly, the whiskey causing her to wobble in time with the music. She could hear Killian’s voice joining hers, and the mix of their vocals sent a powerful energy pulsing through her. His voice was hoarse and sounded more like a groan, and it caused a tingle to rush down her spine.

_I want you to notice_  
 _When I'm not around_  
 _You're so very special_  
 _I wish I was special_

Emma took the microphone off the stand, stomping closer to him before belting the words with enough passion to knock him off his guitar riff. He turned his head to shoot her the most provocative grin, giving her a secret come-hither look. Emma mirrored his expression, waltzing closer as he commanded from her, filling the space in between them, as their eyes remained glued to one another.  
  
 _Oh, oh, but I'm a creep_  
 _I'm a weirdo_  
 _What the hell I'm doing here?_  
 _I don't belong here_

Emma wished she wasn’t in a bar full of people, that there wasn’t a band surrounding them or a guitar in between them, that a spotlight wasn’t highlighting the way their bodies interlocked with one another. God, the air between them was electric and she wanted to seal her lips over that crooked smile of his. That _bloody_ Jameson made her think things she would have cursed herself for any other day.  
  
 _Oh, oh, he’s running out the door_  
 _She's running out_

He met her note for note, increasing in volume and power as they soared above the music, gliding through the melody. The crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer, as the drummer banged away and they roared the words like a tribal chant. Emma stomped like a crazy person as she let the music fill her veins, closing her eyes to savor the moment.

_She’s run, run, run  
Run, run_

_Run_ , was what she kept thinking to herself, as the word reverberated through the sound system. She was indeed running. Running far away from her past, from her pain, from everything.

When she opened her eyes, she realized how close she had glided towards him, leaving barely enough space for him to play guitar. His gaze was tracing her frame, seemingly memorizing every inch of her, searing it into his memory. She realized she wasn’t quite running from something, but towards _someone_.  
  
 _Whatever makes you happy_  
 _Whatever you want_

His eyes were tempting her, and she inched closer to him, trailing her fingertips up his chest, forgetting the publicity of this intimate moment. His voice entered in a guttural tone, the vibration humming through his chest into her palm.

_You're so very special  
I wish I was special_

He turned towards her, able to use her microphone to amplify his harmony, as his breath mingled with hers, tickling both of their skins. Her fingertips began fiddling with the neck of his shirt, tracing slow, taunting circles into his collarbone. His breath hitched, basking in the warm trail she left across his skin.

_But I'm a creep_  
 _I'm a weirdo_  
 _What the hell am I doing here?_  
 _I don't belong here_  
 _Mm, I don't belong here_

Their faces were almost pressed together, both of their eyes closed tight, and she could feel the magnetic tilt both of their bodies made into one another. It took the rumble of applause to jolt them out of their self-induced spell. Emma backed away, her cheeks redder than an apple. Killian seemed to be affected as well, as he coughed a few times before regaining his composure. There was no denying the spark now.

* * *

Killian shrugged his coat over his shoulders as he said goodnight to his band mates. He swung past the bar top, holding an arm out chivalrously for Emma. “Shall we depart, m’lady?” he asked, causing several women left in the bar to swoon, batting their eyelashes towards the oblivious musician.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jones,” she stated, dragging him out instead, not realizing it had started to pour somewhere between them singing and the two or three (or was it four?) more shots they took before leaving.

“ _Oi_! Who told you to use my bloody surname?”

Emma smirked, holding her coat across her arm, opening her mouth to drink in the rain. “Your band.”

“Useless twits,” he muttered under his breath, smirking.

Emma began skipping through the rain, her outfit growing damp in the downpour. “You know, you and your band should still play for my dance show.”

Killian chuckled, grabbing Emma out of the rain to huddle under a store awning. “You were actually serious about that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as she pressed against him slightly, before pushing away from him to waltz under the scaffolding like she was in her own rendition of _Singing in the Rain_.

“Of course, I was,” she stated, gazing at him from over her shoulder. “I never lie.”

“Perhaps I will then,” Killian suggested. “But you have to give me some sort of incentive, love.” He trailed behind her, his eyes following her every step, graceful and yet endearingly clumsy at the same time.

“Hmm, an incentive?” Emma thought out loud, continuing to skip through puddles and swing around the poles holding up their makeshift shelter.

Killian followed her attentively, as Emma hummed the melody from earlier, the alcohol in her system causing her stride to turn into a wavering sway. Killian smiled, watching as she shifted in time with the music in her head, mentally dancing through some choreography. She took each step carefully as her voice faintly filled the space between them.

Emma paused, turning around with an eager expression. “I could sing it with you!” she shouted, jumping in excitement. “Please, Killian?” She pouted playfully, which made her request that much harder to deny.

“For you, love,” he whispered, reaching out for her wrist, causing her to stumble clumsily into him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, keeping her body upright and flush against his chest. She moved her arms up his torso, linking them behind his head, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll do whatever you wish.”

Emma smiled, leaning in slowly, feeling that familiar magnetic tilt, gasping when a cab whizzed past them, splashing them both as it sped through a puddle.

“Holy shit,” she shouted, pushing the wall of water off her body, regretting having not put her jacket on when they’d left the bar. Her skirt and top were drenched, and the water trickled through her stockings to her legs.

Killian grabbed her hand swiftly, whisking her away before she had a chance to complain further. “Come on, love. My apartment’s a block away. You could dry off there.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Do you actually mean ‘dry off’ or are you suggesting something _else_?” Emma teased, the alcohol obviously influencing her thoughts.

“What do you take me for?” he questioned, and she felt slightly embarrassed by her comment. “My sister might have left some clothes you could borrow. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He turned around to tap the tip of her nose, his goofy grin causing her nose to scrunch as he rushed her across the street, heading towards his apartment.


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” Killian mentioned, as he fidgeted through his pockets for the keys to his apartment.

Emma nodded, shivering from the cold, the rainstorm temporarily dropping the temperature from its previous balmy state. Killian opened the door, revealing a small, cozy living room with a quaint kitchenette area. There was a doorway nestled in the back of the living room, leading to his bedroom, and the moonlight shining through the windows illuminated a pathway towards it.

“Jane usually leaves her clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser, probably sweat pants or something,” he stated nodding towards the room, taking off his beanie cap to uncover a tousled mop of raven black hair. Emma smirked a little bit, before waltzing away from him towards his bedroom, the drunken sway in her step causing him to chuckle.

She flicked on a lamp to her side, glancing around the room, noticing how small it was. There was a full-sized bed pushed into the corner, with an ordinary gray bedspread and a few pillows thrown haphazardly by the headboard. She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser to find a few pairs of black leggings, but not much else. She shrugged, slipping out of her sopping clothes, peeling the stockings off of her calves before hanging the clothes over a windowsill to dry.

She tugged the leggings over her hips, sighing at the warmth they provided to her chilled legs, her torso still shivering from the absence of fabric. She scanned the room for some sort of top (because no matter how much whiskey she’d drunk, she didn’t think it was appropriate to walk out into his living room in her bra).

She tossed around his strewn-about clothes (oversized tees, ripped jeans, and _way_ too many plaid shirts), when her eyes suddenly locked onto a small, velvet box left stranded on the nightstand. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she reached down to pick it up, brushing across its smooth exterior with her thumbs. She popped it open, gasping at the small diamond ring placed delicately inside. It shimmered against the subdued light of the room, and she wondered whom the ring belonged to or rather, whom he was intending to give it to.

Killian propped the door open to his bedroom, the slow creak causing Emma to startle. “Everything alright in here?”

“Shit, you scared me,” Emma shrieked, spinning around swiftly, hiding the ring box behind her back. She scanned his figure, noticing the pair of plaid pajama pants that replaced his jeans.

“I’m guessing Jane didn’t leave any shirts,” he said, his eyes perusing her soft curves, grinning at the contrast of her lacy black bra against her milky white curves.

“No, she didn’t,” she responded, her fingers fiddling with the box behind her back, attempting to head discreetly towards the nightstand.

Killian shrugged the cardigan off his shoulders, tossing it in Emma’s direction. She caught it with her free hand, the cozy fabric feeling warm against her bare skin. She threw it over her shoulders, snuggling it closer to her frame, selfishly inhaling the smell of spice that was so _Killian_.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he suggested smugly, smirking as she buttoned the cardigan one-handed, his expression turning slightly puzzled at the ridiculousness of it. “What are you hiding there, _Swan_?”

Emma froze, the box slipping between her now clammy hands. “Oh... nothing... I just,” she stammered, searching for an excuse, realizing quickly that she couldn’t lie to him. She held out the box in her palm, nudging it in his direction. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I just... I was just curious.”

He instantly snatched the box out of her hand, cradling it close to his chest. “Where did you find this?” he grumbled, his eyes growing fearful and defensive.

Emma twiddled her thumbs, biting her lip, cursing silently at herself for invading his privacy. “It was on your nightstand. I’m sorry, like I said I was just curious.”

Killian didn’t speak, didn’t even look at her, just kept his eyes focused on the velvety box. He leaned against the wooden doorframe, his shoulders sinking as he opened it, his fingers tracing the cut of the diamond, the smooth gold band that held it upright, the satin pillow that bordered it. He remained like that for longer than she anticipated, and she noticed his expression turn almost vulnerable, an emotion she had never seen him wear before. It worried her, her heart aching for whatever pain this ring was causing him.

“Does it belong to your sister?” she asked softly, cutting through the silence, hoping that was the answer. But she knew it wasn’t. His expression told her it wasn’t. Nobody looks that hopeless over a ring your sister left behind after a work trip.

He shook his head, continuing to stroke the ring with a careful touch.

“Does it belong to someone special?”

The question hung in the air for a while, and he refused to look at her, his gaze trailing off into the dark living room, exhaling faintly before speaking.

“It used to,” he responded, snapping the box shut, placing it on the dresser before resuming his place in the doorframe. The faint light of the room made his expression appear sullen, dark circles forming around his eyes as he looked towards her for a brief instant.

“She broke your heart?” Emma pressed, and she could feel Killian shut down in front of her, noticing very recognizable walls build up around him.

“No,” he muttered, his stare trading the living room for the floor.

Emma stayed silent for a moment, her mind recalling the night they met, when he bought her that drink and she all but threw it back in face. _The look in your eyes, the heartbreak hidden in them. It’s just... I know the feeling... all too well._ He bought her that drink because she looked lonely, depressed, _broken._ Everything he must have been at some point, because he was so quick to identify it in a complete stranger. And if this woman didn’t break his heart, well then what? 

“She died, didn’t she?” Emma blurted out and his eyes shot up from the floor, glaring in her direction, their usual striking blue growing stormy, brimming with tears.

“Aye,” was all he could muster, his bottom lip trembling as he tried frantically to push back the grief simmering to the surface, feelings that he had bottled down for so long in an effort to pretend he was healed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking a small step towards him. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he muttered, waving her off. He watched as she continued to make her way to the doorframe, leaning opposite to him. He closed his eyes, his head dropping back against the wood, as he tried to fight off the sorrow he felt deep in his chest.

“Tell me about her.”

Killian’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head, brushing away her request. “Emma, that story is one of heartbreak and suffering. I don’t intend to burden you with my loss.”

“I burdened you with mine,” she reminded him, smiling lightly when he finally chuckled a little bit, his eyelids opening to expose the grief behind his stare. “Please, Killian? At least tell me her name.”

He scanned her figure in the doorway, clad in his cardigan that just about reached her knees, her blonde locks falling loosely around her face, her soft features promising to listen without ever uttering the words. She looked like an angel sent from the heavens, and her crooked smile caused an aura of serenity to sweep over him. “Her name was Milah,” he said, his voice sounding tranquil as the name fell from his lips.

Emma smiled, her eyes glittering. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Killian grimaced, breathing deeply, his eyes fluttering shut, trying to remember his lost lover’s features. Her dark curls, her mystic gray eyes, her sandy skin. He slowly opened his eyes again and was met with hopeful jade ones encouraging him to continue. “I met her at university. I had to take some useless acting class, and the professor assigned her to help me because I was bloody awful.”

Emma chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

He rolled his eyes, grateful that she was lightening the mood. “We became friends, and then I fell in love with her. A few months before her graduation, I asked her to marry me.”

“And she said yes?” Emma asked earnestly, as if the story was being told in the present.

Killian smirked, his classic swagger resurfacing for a fleeting second. “Naturally.”

Emma grinned, but she was hesitant to make him continue, sensing the apprehension that was so similar to her own. His actions were so familiar, and she realized then that both their souls had been through far too much pain and sorrow and heartbreak to heal properly. Rejection and loss was a natural state for them, and she hated the cracks she saw in his heart, the ones she saw reflected on her own heart as well.

“Then what happened?” Her heart clenched when his expression fell, and his shoulders sunk once more against the frame, the glimmer of confidence from before quickly dissipating.

“She was leaving... to go to an audition in London. Big production at the West End. She was so excited, and I wished her good luck and she said she loved me,” he began to explain, his voice growing quiet, his chest heaving as his inhalations drew shallow. “And then I never saw her again. She got in... in a car accident... and she... she...”

Emma was quick to move towards him, as his sentence trailed off, and she cupped his cheeks gently with her hands, smoothing over the worn creases on his face. “Shh, it’s alright,” she whispered, shushing him softly, brushing away the small tear that trickled down his cheek. He seemed to melt into her touch, and he closed his eyes, his breathing beginning to even out as she caressed his face.

It felt more like instinct when she leaned in, catching him off guard as her lips brushed lightly against his. His breath hitched, and he didn’t know whether to move with her or against her but something sparked inside of him. He felt like he was awake for the first time in a long time, just like when his eyes locked onto hers in the bar. His lips began to move hungrily against hers, causing the soft kiss to grow in intensity with each passing second. His arm moved cautiously towards the small of her back, pulling her midsection into him so her chest was pressed flush against his, feeling the warmth of her body surrounding him, comforting him, _soothing_ him. He tugged on her bottom lip, and she shifted her head to the side, deepening it enough so her tongue could slip in between his lips, his mouth opening willingly to allow her entrance.

Killian pulled back for a moment, gasping for air, his chest heaving for a completely different reason.

“Emma—” he murmured, trying to politely push her off him (because she was drunk after all, and his conscience was overriding the lurid thoughts that now plagued his mind). “You’re not thinking clearly, love.”

“But what if I finally am?” she whispered from behind fluttering eyelashes, pouting innocently, which tempted him in ways he never imagined it could. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes widening in awe as she placed her fingers over his mouth to halt his speech. “Shh, don’t talk.”

Emma angled for his chin, drawing slow, taunting kisses down his jawline towards his neck, pausing at his pulse point to suck on it lightly, which caused the most sinful groan to erupt from his throat.

“Gods, love,” he grumbled and she giggled a little against his skin, the vibration humming throughout his body.

“You and I have been through far too much pain,” she murmured against his throat, as she trailed her mouth across his collarbone, tracing a wet streak with the tip of her tongue towards his chin. “Just for tonight, let’s make it all go away.”

She dove in, searing him with another kiss, the taste of whiskey mingling on their lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair, grabbing and tugging and pulling as if she was drowning into him. He parted against her lips, causing the kiss to heighten as he tried to keep up with the force of her lips. He pulled her further into him, grinning when her whole body arched, and her hips began to grind tantalizingly slow against his. He moved towards her neck, his hands fiddling with the buttons of the cardigan, pushing it aside slightly to place fiery kisses on the exposed skin, grabbing her ass to tug her closer. She whimpered underneath him, her hips pushing him hard into the wooden frame, and he realized exactly where this was headed.

“Emma,” he pleaded, squeezing her shoulders firmly and pushing her away from him. “No. Stop. We can’t.”

Emma whined, pressing her hips against the thinly veiled bulge underneath his pajamas. “Can’t what?”

He shuddered, as she raked her fingertips across his chest. “You are quite the temptress,” he mumbled, groaning as she surged forward, sucking on his pulse point yet again. “But I cannot take advantage of you in such a state.”

She grumbled in response, using her mouth to attempt to convince him otherwise, trailing her lips up to his cheek. “You’re no fun.”

“Believe me, love,” he purred, his voice growing deviously low, his nose brushing softly against her cheek, his breath hot in her ear. “I am plenty fun. Maybe one day, I’ll show you.”

She gasped a little bit at the thought, his hands roaming her body, his mouth ravaging every inch of her, and she hated that this image was only that. Her fingers lingered down to trace circles on his chest, staring idly at the patches of hair tangling between her fingertips.

“Why are you so perfect?” she whispered, and he leaned his head down to force her to meet his stare, lifting her chin up ever so gently.

“I think after this evening, we’ve learned neither of us are,” he reassured her, lifting her lips up to meet his in a tender kiss, much lighter than the carnal one they’d just broke.

She groaned when his lips brushed away from hers. “I should probably get going soon.”

“It is getting late, love,” he noted, nodding towards the twinkling skyline through the window.

Emma moved out of his grasp, stepping towards the living room to leave, but Killian reached out his hand, clutching her wrist in between his fingers.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? Try and sleep off some of that whiskey?” he suggested, his eyes hopeful and considerate. “Besides, the rain is too heavy for you to leave. It would be rather bad form of me to let a lady out into the city in such weather.”

She didn’t think twice about his request, as she walked through the doorway, intertwining her fingers with his as she led him towards the bed. She lowered herself onto the mattress, patting the space behind her invitingly. He shuffled towards the bed, dimming the lights before he tossed his shirt over his head, gliding in next to her. She curved into his back, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, reveling in the heat of his body pressed against hers. She sighed as his steady exhale tingled against her neck and the smell of spice overwhelmed her senses yet again. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek, before snuggling her closer to his torso, greedily inhaling the fragrance of vanilla wafting from her hair, the steady pulse of their mingling heartbeats helping them both drift off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

_Ow._

Emma opened one eye, then another, the room a hazy blur as her pupils adjusted to its brightness, the hot sun streaking through the windowpanes, the reflection of light bouncing off a mirror, causing her to squint her eyes. She had no idea what time it was as she scanned the room, realizing quickly that this was most certainly _not_ her room.

She glanced down at her body. Not naked.

 _Okay, that’s one less thing to worry about_ , she thought.

She examined the space, her body too sluggish to actually get off the mattress. It was meagerly decorated (clearly belonging to a man), and she noticed her clothes from last night hanging on the windowsill.

 _So I changed too_.

She grumbled, bringing a hand to her forehead, pressing firmly to get the unbearable sting to subside. She could hear the faint sound of snoring at her back, and she peeked around to see the scruffy male breathing steadily behind her, his hair entirely disheveled atop his head. She smiled, feeling his fingers tighten gradually around her hip, pulling her closer in his sleep. Emma bit her lip in deep reflection, trying to remember exactly what had led to her and Killian cuddling in bed together.

The entire evening felt distant and fuzzy. She recalled arriving at the bar, drinking an infinite amount of whiskey before singing on stage (mostly because the image of Killian undressing her with his eyes was etched into her memory). But after that, it all seemed like a dream.

She had some memory of coming home with him, soaking wet. There was rain. She changed into some dry clothes. There was the smell of spice. A lot of spice. A ring, but not hers. The name escaped her. Was it Mary? Mira? Milah? Yes, _Milah_. He loved her, but he felt so much pain when he looked at the ring, when he talked about the woman, describing the life he had with her and the one he never got to have. He looked like _she did._

 _Ow_.

Emma felt the pain in her head throb again as she stirred out of the bed, searching for some water and an aspirin, memories slowly flashing by as she stumbled towards the kitchen, the texture of his coarse stubble under her palms, the indent of the scar on his cheek beneath her thumb, the soft warmth of his lips as they brushed against hers...

 _Wait._ They’d kissed. Holy crap, they’d _kissed_ and it all rushed back to Emma, her head pounding in conjunction with the memories that flooded her brain.

There was tugging and grabbing, sucking and licking, grinding, so much _grinding_ , and Emma felt a clench between her thighs when she though of her fingers running through his dark hair, his mouth sucking on her collarbone, her fingertips raking his chest, his hands grabbing her ass. Emma felt an uneasy sensation flow throughout her body as she fanned herself, struggling to get the clammy sensation swimming over her to dissipate.

She realized she needed to get out of here, and _fast_. He probably thought she was crazy after last night, and she intended to avoid the inevitable morning rejection when he realized the foolishness of her actions. She threw herself at him, there was no doubt about it, and obviously, the alcohol had made him reciprocate. Screw alcohol, it was probably the raging male hormones...

“Good morning, love,” Killian spoke up from across the room, leaning casually against the refrigerator, his taut and very bare torso directly in her line of sight, a trail of hair inviting her eyes down to his pajama pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” she quipped, releasing the white-knuckled grip she didn’t realize she had on the counter.

“You going somewhere?” he asked, noticing the fleeting look in her eyes.

Emma backed up a little bit, trying to force herself out of his very appealing stare. “I... I need to go,” she stammered, knocking over a few items on the counter in her wake.

He smirked in suspicion, beginning to step towards her. “Sure, you do.”

“I do. I have papers to grade and errands to run and...”

Killian chuckled, her eyes mesmerized by the visible rumble. “At least let me make you breakfast.”

Emma shook her head, waving her hands in front of her. “No, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He closed the gap between them, invading any sort of distance she’d created. “It’s not imposing, love,” he promised, his face treacherously close to hers, his strong arms wedging her against the counter.

He let a cool exhale trail down her neck, the tingle reaching the bare skin of her chest causing her to vaguely notice the half unbuttoned cardigan draped over her shoulders ( _had he done that last night?_ ). His lips landed on her collarbone, lightly pecking at it before placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin where the lace of her bra met her flesh. She arched into his body, spreading her legs around him as if it was the most natural reaction in the universe, her hands inching up to link behind his neck, his hand floating down between her thighs and dear God, he was more potent than any alcohol she’d ever tasted.

“Fine,” she answered breathlessly, eliciting a soft whimper when the delicious friction of his fingers against her lower half disappeared. “But I’m only staying for a half hour, got it?”

He grinned, that goofy grin that made her think he was surely smitten, no matter what her brain told her. “If the lady insists.”

* * *

Killian meticulously worked through some sort of pancake recipe as she sipped on her coffee, fixated as his back muscles contracted with each fluid movement. He seemed so naturally domestic, if you forego the bare chest and the protruding pelvic bones ( _and the sex hair_ ).

He glanced back at her a few times, catching her gawking from the kitchen island, smirking smugly as he hummed alongside his prep work. He flipped the pancakes with ease, sliding them out of the pan and onto a plate before gliding it in Emma’s direction on the opposite side of the island.

“Butter, syrup or both?” he asked over his shoulder, bending over to fumble through the fridge.

“Both,” Emma responded, grinning at the view.

He turned around, placing them down in front of her, waltzing back over to finish cooking his own breakfast. She ate slowly, hoping the food wouldn’t shock her whiskey-filled stomach. It’d been a while since she’d drank like she did last night, and the headache reminded her that she probably shouldn’t do it again.

“So are you all ready for the wedding?” he asked, turning around with his own mile-high stack of pancakes, drowning them in syrup.

Emma nodded. “Almost. I’ve got to finalize the hotel rooms for the bridal party.”

Killian smirked, devouring a mouthful of food before washing it down with a swig of coffee. “Well, put my room next to yours, love.”

Emma choked on a gulp of coffee, her face twisting in disbelief. Regina hadn’t told her he was part of the wedding party, let alone attending the event at all.

“They invited _you_?” she scoffed, his expression filled with regret at her obvious disgust.

“I thought Robin would have said something,” he responded, faking how much her disapproval affected him. “But yes, they did. Even made me a bloody groomsman and asked me to play the processional.”

Emma shook her head. “Well, _obviously_ he didn’t tell me.” She paused for a moment, staring blankly into her mug. “No offense, Killian, but why would you be a groomsman?”

Killian sighed, taking a quick sip. “Robin gave me my first real job when I came to the city. I’ve known him for a few years.”

Emma’s brow scrunched with interest. “Seriously? What did you do?”

“Bartended for a while. Much better than the bussing jobs I used to get,” Killian responded, laughing to himself, scooping a bite of his pancakes and waving it towards her. “Mate’s got to eat, you know.”

Emma seemed unconvinced, as she rearranged the food on her plate nervously. “So, you’re in the wedding?”

“Why are you finding this so hard to believe, love?” he argued, leaning over the island, his large biceps flexing underneath his forearms.

Emma tried to avert her eyes, but he looked so damn tempting and she just couldn’t keep her gaze off him. “It’s just...”

“Just what?” he purred, slanting his head towards her.

Emma bit her lip in anticipation, watching the way his face grew into an audacious smirk, his eyes dancing over her body like he had last night. “You see what they’re doing, don’t you?” she finally quipped, her voice lower than a whisper, a small grin escaping her lips at the notion.

Killian shook his head, raising an eyebrow keenly, his body having shifted even closer. “Do explain, love.”

“They’re trying to hook us up,” she stated matter-of-factly, folding her arms across her chest.

He reached out his hand, taking one of hers in his, caressing it smoothly with his thumb. “Well, I’d say they’re doing a superb job, wouldn’t you?” He lifted her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles before kissing them softly, his eyes peering over them to gauge her reaction.

“Asshole,” she jested, releasing her hand from his to swat at his chest.

He chortled, sitting back down to drink his coffee, content to enjoy the comfort of their morning together.

* * *

After breakfast, Killian suggested watching some television since Emma’s headache was still pounding, rambling on about how it's "bad form" for a lady to leave when she's ill (which she actually believed because part of her really didn't want to go just yet). He turned on some chick flick, his heart swelling when Emma rested her head on his bare chest, her body cuddled alongside him. She passed out soon after, the light grumble of her slumber humming against him.

She woke up in the middle of the next movie, rousing from his torso to find his doting stare gazing upon her. She left soon after that, giving him an affectionate kiss, thanking him for convincing her to stay and promising to get together with him soon (it was only after she was gone that he realized he never got his cardigan back, not that he minded).

He slumped back down on the couch, turning off the television, thinking about the past twenty-four hours. Things were changing between them, and he knew for sure she was seeing him in a different light. He felt like he couldn’t get enough of her when she was around, and missed her terribly when she wasn’t. Everything about her just made him feel content, whole, _alive_.

He reached down for his phone, noticing the slew of missed calls and text messages from his sister, forgetting that he’d meant to return them last night. He pressed Jane’s name on the screen, waiting a few rings before hearing a voice pick up on the other side.

“Well, well, well, Killy,” Jane teased in a snarky tone. “It’s about time you called.”

“Hello to you too, Jane,” he responded, chuckling at his sister’s attitude.

Jane sighed. “What have you been up to that you couldn’t call since yesterday? Have a girl over or something?”

Killian hesitated to speak, not quite ready to tell his older sister about his recent escapade. “Um... well...”

“You had a girl over?!” Jane shouted, giggling enthusiastically. “Casanova!”

Killian shook his head, laughing at his sister’s wild, slightly old-fashioned accusation. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Okay, _sure_ ,” Jane scoffed, pausing a moment before speaking again. “So tell me about her.”

Killian grimaced at the idea of explaining the recent development in his personal life with his sister of all people, but he figured he had to tell someone, since the recent events had left him too excited to accomplish much of anything else.

“Well, I met her at the bar I play at. She’s a friend of the owner’s fiancée. You know, that couple whose wedding I’m going to,” he explained.

“Oh, so she’s a bar crawler, is she?” Jane asked.

Killian slouched into the arm of the couch. “No, she’s not. She’s actually a middle school teacher. Teaches English, runs the dance team and she has a bloody good singing voice, although she’d never believe it.”

“Well, she sounds like a lovely lass,” Jane answered, pausing to let her brother continue.

Killian smiled at the thought of Emma, her warm glow, her soft touch, the energizing atmosphere she created. His eyes trailed towards the bedroom doorway, his mind wandering to last night. “She is.”

“You sound like you’re very happy, Killy,” Jane mentioned, pleased to hear the thrill in Killian’s tone, something she hadn’t heard in a very long time. “Are you falling in love with her?” she asked, causing Killian to choke on his own breath. “Killian? You there?”

He cleared his throat, not realizing how long he’d delayed. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

Jane hummed into the phone. “Well, why the long pause then? Do you not know?”

Killian let his head fall back, exhaling loudly when he thought of an answer to the question. He was falling for her, he was sure of that. But did he love her? Should he love her already? He’d only known her a short time, and it was only recently that she began to feel _anything_ towards him. The idea caused him to feel slightly unsettled.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he eventually answered, and he could almost see his sister’s frustration with his answer, the irritated toe tap, the arms folded across her chest, the annoyed pout on her lips.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing,” she responded, her tone stricter than before. “What’s wrong?”

Killian sighed, attempting to find the words to describe how he felt. He did care for her, of that he was almost absolutely certain. But any affection would scare her off, and love would definitely cause her to run. He would be foolish to make any such declaration this early in the game.

“She’s been abandoned before,” Killian went on, swallowing hard, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “If I were to ever tell her how I felt, she wouldn’t believe me, I can assure you of that.”

“You think she’ll reject you?” Jane pressed.

Killian sighed. “Aye, that I do.”

Jane breathed deeply, thinking of how fragile her brother’s heart was, detecting how this woman seemed to breathe new life into him, something she could sense in just his voice. “Look, Killy, I know you. And I know how you love, completely and wholeheartedly. This woman must know this already, or else she wouldn’t seem nearly as apprehensive about the whole situation. For her to revitalize you like this, there must be something fairly strong between the two of you.”

Killian grinned at the words his sister spoke, and yet, he was still cautious about the meaning they held. “Are you sure, Jane?”

“Of course I am,” she responded firmly.

Killian felt a sense of relief wash over him, his sister’s confirmation giving him the security his heart certainly needed. “Thank you, Jane.”

“Anytime, little brother. And if she does reject you, you are always welcome in Boston," she added, pausing a moment before perking back up with a nosy request. “Now, tell me about this wedding you’re going to.”


	12. Chapter 12

Killian walked quietly into the auditorium, careful not to disturb Emma. He was here to surprise her before their rehearsal at her apartment, figuring he could catch a glimpse of their progress with the upcoming dance show, maybe offer some ideas for a final song (something she’d went on and on about, complaining that the girls had yet to select a song they could all agree on).

Emma was up on stage, dressed in a pair of opaque tights and a dark bodysuit, a slouchy magenta shirt hanging daintily off her shoulder, her hair loosely hanging around her face. He watched as she waltzed forward a few paces before pirouetting elegantly into a fan kick in one of the most fluid motions he’d ever seen, her body gracefully shifting through the movements. He passed the rows of seats, guitar case slumped over his shoulder, mesmerized by the way Emma glided towards the back of the stage, stepping together before leaping across it and collapsing to the ground. She looked so natural, so carefree, and he felt himself staring a little more than he should be, his eyes fixated on the curve of her hips, the delicate angle of her exposed shoulder and the proud smile that escaped her lips as she lifted herself up from the ground.  

“Wanna try?” he heard Emma ask as she walked over to the front of the stage, her chest heaving as she nodded towards her students.

“Uh, Ms. Swan?” one of the girls spoke up, as a few of the others giggled when they made eye contact with him, causing Killian to lift a finger to his lips, silently willing them to remain quiet.

“Yeah, what?” Emma asked over her shoulder, scrolling for a song on her iPod, a slight tinge of annoyance woven into her voice.

The girls giggled again, and Emma huffed, closing her eyes in exasperation. Probably something taped to her back, or her stockings were running down her leg. “Who’s that guy?”

Emma swiftly shot up from her hunched positionn. _S_ _ome guy_ should not be in here, her body tensing as her arms backed the girls up behind her, the memory of Neal surprising her at school only a few short weeks ago replaying in the back of her mind, a sense of absolute terror coursing through her at the idea of dealing with Neal in front of her students.

Her panic quickly calmed, realizing that _some guy_ was actually one very handsome musician, strolling down the center aisle displaying a large, toothy grin.

“Oh, _him_ ,” she responded in a sardonic tone, shooting an even wider smile in his direction. “He’s the singer of that band, the one that’s going to play for our show.”

One of the girls foolishly waved at him causing Emma to glare in her direction, shaking her head in disapproval. “What? He’s cute!” the girl argued, causing Emma to chuckle, finally relaxing into the unusual situation.

Another girl strolled towards Emma, cocking her head in Killian’s direction. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Killian had wandered close enough to hear the comment, and a teasing smirk grew on his lips. “I don’t know. Is he?”

Emma snorted when she heard his reaction, laughing at the absurdity of this entire conversation, intent on putting an end to it sooner rather than later. “Girls, go practice your moves for a bit while I talk to our friend here,” she demanded, rolling her eyes when the girls snickered at Emma’s little stumble down the steps.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper as she rushed towards him.

Killian shrugged his shoulders, waving humorously as the young girls continued to ogle him. “Figured I’d come down and see you in your element.” Emma raised an eyebrow, and Killian lost the hint of confidence he’d displayed only a moment ago. “Sorry if it’s an intrusion—”

“No, it’s fine,” Emma quickly answered, interrupting him by placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling encouragingly. “We’ll just be a little bit. Why don’t you take a seat?”

* * *

Killian escorted Emma out of the school, electing to grab some food on their way back to her apartment to rehearse a song for Robin and Regina’s wedding, a request Regina had made after catching word of their anticipated performance for the dance show.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Emma stated as she made her way into the apartment, Killian trailing closely behind her. She placed her belongings on the end table, waltzing into her bedroom to freshen up. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Killian sat himself on the couch, assembling their meal on the coffee table. He’d gotten a cheeseburger and some fries, practically teasing Emma when she ordered a chicken Caesar salad, going on about how the dress for the wedding wouldn’t fit if she ate like him (to which he responded, _I don’t think that’s even remotely possible, you always look stunning_ , eliciting a dramatic eye roll from Emma).

The gentleman in him elected to wait for her return before diving into his dinner, unlatching his guitar case instead and propping the instrument in his lap, thumbing through a few chords changes. His head darted up when he heard Emma’s footsteps enter from behind.

“Oh, don’t stop on my accord,” she stated, imitating his accent with a humorous lilt to her voice. She snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders that were deliciously squeezed by the instrument’s strap. “So, what did you think of the dance?” Emma asked, resting her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling against the scruff of his cheek.

“It was really good,” he responded, feeling Emma’s hands slide slowly off his torso so she could stroll around the couch and plop herself in the opposite corner. “ _You’re_ really good, Emma.”

Emma reached forward to open her salad and dig in, scooping up a forkful of lettuce. “No, I’m mediocre at best,” she added, waving her fork in between them as if to scold him for the compliment. “But I enjoy it, so that’s what counts.”

Killian lifted the guitar off his shoulder, his own food left untouched as he leaned across the couch, taking the now empty fork out of her hand and placing it down gently on the table. “Emma, you’re better than you think. Same with music.”

His eyes were soft, the response more honest than she was expecting as his thumb brushed over the top of her hand, her heart swelling at how highly he regarded her and how proud he seemed of talents that she still didn’t feel quite that confident about.

“I mean, you were practically belting that song the other week at the bar. I didn’t know you had it in you!” A hearty chuckle echoed from his lungs as he reached out to take a bite of his burger before slouching back into his corner of the couch. “Most of our fans keep asking for you to come back.”

“Oh God, you remember all of that?” Emma asked, slightly blushing at that weekend’s events.

Killian grinned, perching his hands behind his head enticingly, displaying himself as if to coax Emma into repeating. “Let’s just say there are other things about that night I remember beyond...”

“Shut up!” Emma interrupted, jumping over to his side to slap him playfully, red creeping up on her cheeks as she recalled the night.

He swiftly grabbed her by the waist, flipping her over and pinning her against the corner of the couch, his body hovering dangerously above her, knees straddling her hips. “Hey, you kissed me, if I recall correctly,” he teased, low and husky, his lips nipping at her chin.

Emma smirked, raising one eyebrow, remembering the way he met her every advance with one of equal or greater value (at least before he sobered up). “Well, you liked it,” she responded lower than a whisper, her expression silently agreeing to whatever scandalous plans his actions clearly communicated.

“Can you blame me?” he countered back, his breath hot across her face, his too-blue gaze darting between her eyes and lips, causing her to tilt her head up towards his. “So, have the girls picked out a song?” he eventually questioned, the moment fading between them as he sat them both up.

“No,” Emma grumbled, chuckling a little when she thought of a comment one of the girls had said at the end of rehearsal. She averted her gaze from him as an embarrassed blush crept up her cheeks.

Killian raised an eyebrow as he slung the guitar over his shoulder once more. “What’s so funny, love?”

Emma scratched the back of her neck anxiously. “Nothing, it’s just... one of them actually joked that you should write them something.”

“Oh.” Killian drummed his fingers against the wood of his guitar, the sound causing Emma’s gaze to dart back towards him, glancing at the now smug grin covering his face, his other hand rubbing his chin in scrutiny. “I suppose I could,” he finally suggested.

Emma shook her head. “Well, you don’t have to,” she muttered, taking a forkful of salad in her mouth in order to calm the sudden nervousness bubbling in her stomach. “It’s just because the girls have a crush on you now. Don’t even bother.”

Killian strummed through a few random chord changes before clearing his throat. “I think it’s a great idea, actually. Tell your girls I’d love to,” he stated, leaning down to fiddle through his messenger bag for sheet music. “Now onto the more pressing matter, this is what I’ve picked out for the wedding.”

Emma smiled as he retrieved the music, the thought of Killian singing the lyrics along with her forming in her mind, their voices melding together as if they were always intended to be heard that way. She mentally chuckled, assuming that Killian was probably suckered into selecting some sappy love song from a list of Regina-approved choices. _Or maybe he picked something else_ , she thought hopefully as he placed the music on the table.

“ _Lovesong_ ,” she read, turning her body away from him as she picked up the sheets, glancing over it hesitantly.

“Aye, Robin’s always listening to The Cure,” Killian explained. “And I figured it’d be a nice gesture to use something he likes, since I’m assuming Regina’s been pretty stubborn about things when it comes to the wedding.” He paused for a moment, watching as Emma intently perused the music, biting her nails nervously. “Plus, the arrangement is a little bit different, so for us it’ll be a bit of a challenge.”

“Hmm, I can see that,” Emma stated, as she noticed the almost illegible scribble of her name next to various verses. The lyrics seemed to hold the emotions appropriate for a wedding, suitable for her best friend and husband-to-be, but she wondered if Killian chose this for an entirely different reason.

Killian scooted towards her side of the couch, leaning over her shoulder to view the music alongside her, snaking an arm around front of her to translate his handwriting. “These are your verses, and those are mine. We’ll sort of trade, if that’s alright with you.”

Emma nodded in approval, his presence noticeable out of the corner of her eye, his heartbeat strong enough to echo in her ear. She swallowed thickly, completely distracted by the nearness of him. “Seems easy enough, I guess,” she mumbled.

He drifted his hand towards hers, brushing softly over it yet again. “I’m sure we’ll sound magnificent together, love. We always do.”

“Mm-hmm,” she responded with an unconvincing nod of agreement.

Killian immediately released her hand from his grasp after an encouraging squeeze, lightly strumming the first few chords of the song, resting his head playfully on her shoulder. “Why don’t we try a little bit before we finish eating?”

Emma shook her head in protest. “No, that’s alright.”

Killian persisted, strumming with more resolution. “It’ll calm your nerves, I promise.”

Emma sighed as she placed the paper down on her lap, her voice small and cautious as she began to sing the first few lines alongside his accompaniment.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again_

“You’re doing great, love,” Killian murmured into her shoulder blade, the vibration humming down her spine.

“Shut up,” Emma retorted, causing him to chuckle breathlessly against her shirt.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again_

Killian didn’t realize how close she had moved towards him, stray strands of hair brushing softly over his face, his voice cracking when he began to speak. “And then the drums come in, we play for a little bit, then I’ll sing and you’ll join me again on the—”

Emma reached out with two fingers, delicately lifting his chin and capturing his lips in a relaxed kiss, sighing against his mouth.

“What was that for?” he asked with a crooked smile, his expression slightly cautious.

Emma shrugged, flashing a glowing smile at him, her fingers still lingering on his face. “I don’t know, for just being you.”

Killian’s own smile grew wider, leaning his forehead against hers, his nose brushing softly against her cheek. “Then I’ll be me more often,” he murmured against her lips.

He leaned in to steal another kiss, her schoolgirl giggle causing his heart to swell as the loud thump of the guitar hitting the floor echoed throughout the room, his hand grazing against the small of her back, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his plaid shirt, his arms pulling her on top of him, their sorry excuse of dinner and a rehearsal all but a distant memory.

* * *

Emma practically skipped back into her apartment after Killian left, catching her phone ringing as she sunk back into the couch.

“Hello?” she said, reaching out to eat her practically deserted salad.

“Hey, Em,” Regina spoke, her voice sounding like her usual meddling self. Emma knew exactly what this phone call was for.

“If you’re calling because you want to know if Killian was over, then my answer is yes,” Emma retorted firmly, the snarky response rolling off her lips in typical Regina fashion.

“Emma!” Regina exclaimed, and Emma laughed at the mental image that the sound of her voice projected: a steely brunette jumping around like a giddy teenager. “I mean, I leave for one freaking weekend and all of a sudden you two are in a relationship...”

“Whoa,” Emma interjected, tossing her fork vehemently into her salad container. “We’re not in a relationship. We’re just having fun.”

“Sure,” Regina taunted, her voice full of doubt. “I was told you two were singing together at the bar the other night, and Robin said one of the waiters saw you leave with him afterwards and now, you’ve got him over at your apartment! Em, that’s an awful lot of fun.”

Emma sighed, passing her hand through her hair. “Yeah, it is,” Emma responded, the suggestive remark sounding so unlike the Emma from a few months ago, that shell of a girl who felt lonely and broken, and she recognized how much she enjoyed this side of herself, the one that only Killian seemed to bring out, the realization causing a smile to grow on her face. “I really like it, though.”

“You mean, you really like _him_ ,” Regina quipped, causing Emma to chuckle.

“Shut up, Regina,” she answered back, continuing to smile like a fool. “You know what I meant.”

“Well, either way, I’m happy for you,” Regina stated. “I mean, I can practically feel you glowing over the phone.”

Emma lifted a hand to her face as Regina began to rattle off wedding related things. Emma noticed her cheeks were warm to the touch, her kiss-bruised lips still curling up at the corners. She was glowing. In fact, she’d been glowing since... actually, since she met him.


	13. Chapter 13

Killian strolled out to the beachfront, the calm ocean water providing a sense of serenity while waves lapped up onto the sand with a soft crash. The beach was exquisitely decorated for the nuptials of Regina Mills and Robin Sherwood, and he admired the beauty of the scene, complete with an arched garden trellis at the front, the tall backdrop of the hotel creating a lengthy shadow as the sun hung low over the horizon.

He wondered what Emma was doing, what she looked like, if she was just as nervous about today as he was. He sighed, strolling down the short wooden aisle and past the rows of chairs with purple ribbons tied to them, making his way back into the hotel.

“Killian! Lad!” Robin hollered from across the hotel lobby, briskly jogging away from the crowd of men hovering around him.

“Can I help you, Robin?” Killian responded, stopping in the doorway, his foot tapping lightly on the hardwood floor.

Robin lightly chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, some sort of nervous habit he’d noticed Robin perform on numerous occasions. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Ahh, do you have cold feet, mate?” Killian teased, patting Robin on the back and heading towards the men’s dressing room.

Robin trailed close behind, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. I just... eh, there’s no easy way to ask this.”

“You alright there?” Killian questioned as he opened the door to the dressing room, picking up his guitar and strolling back down the hallway towards the beachfront.

Robin scratched the back of his neck again, and Killian wondered if he was getting fired from the bar or the gig, or something worse. The last time someone acted this nervous around him was Liam, the day he said goodbye to his brother and left for the States.

“What are your intentions concerning Emma?” Robin finally blurted out, causing Killian to freeze in the lobby, the wandering eyes of the groomsmen darting over towards the two men.

Killian brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching the skin there before opening his eyes. “That seems like an awfully personal question.”

“Bloody hell, I didn’t mean to sound like an overbearing sibling,” Robin assured him, waving his hands in between them. “It’s just—”

“You care about her,” Killian interrupted, causing Robin’s eyes to widen in awe. “And you just want to see to it that she doesn’t get hurt again.”

Robin nodded. “I’ve known her for a long time, Killian. And when Neal left, gods, we never thought we’d see her happy again. But now she’s smiling, all because of you.”

Killian grinned, recalling the soft expression he’d begun to notice more often, the one Emma let escape when she thought nobody was looking (especially when she thought _he_ wasn’t looking, which he always was, but he’d never outright admit it).

“I assured your wife-to-be a long time ago that I would not hurt her best friend,” Killian explained, watching as a proud grin grew on Robin’s face, the one that he assumed was reserved for Regina. It was bizarre that something as simple as a smile could be reserved for one person, and he wondered if Emma’s smile was one she kept reserved for him.

“Glad to hear that, lad,” Robin said, holding out his hand to shake Killian’s. “Only a fool would let her go.”

* * *

Emma watched as Regina paced around the spacious dressing room, careful not to soil her crisp white gown as her mother fussed over her, pushing stray hairs away from her daughter’s face and placing a few rhinestone pins in the back to keep her low bun in place. Regina was practically floating on air as she glided about the room in a strapless mermaid gown, looking like she’d walked straight out of a fairy tale, gushing about her nuptials with Belle, Mary and Ruby before waltzing towards Emma.

“Have you seen Killian yet?” Regina asked, interrupting Emma’s thoughts.

Emma shook her head. “You know it’s bad luck,” Emma quipped jokingly, sticking her tongue out defiantly at her best friend.

“No, silly,” Regina answered, sinking into a chair next to the window. “It’s only bad luck for the groom to see the bride, not for the groomsman to see the maid of honor.”

Emma chuckled, glancing out onto the beach to observe Killian, who was standing solo on the wooden aisle, staring out at the ocean. “Oh well, he’s probably busy dealing with your other half,” she outright lied, studying Killian’s shadow against the sunlight.

“You two ready to perform?” Regina asked, poking at Emma, obviously fishing for details.

“You two ready to get married?” Emma retorted, a sardonic smirk growing on her thin lips.

Regina mirrored Emma’s expression, poking her friend again. “I asked first, Em.”

Emma nodded, her smirk growing wider. “Yeah, but I’m not telling you what the song is.”

“Damn it,” Regina sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “Anyway, since we’re on the subject, what exactly am I supposed to call you two? You know, if people ask.”

“I don’t know. A singing duo,” Emma retorted, her teeth clenching as she flashed an annoyed expression towards her nosy best friend.

Regina playfully swatted at Emma’s bare forearm. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Emma tucked her fist underneath her chin, leaning against the windowsill, her gaze intently focused on Killian’s confident stride as he made his way back into the hotel. “We’re just...”

“Just what?” Regina pressed, sitting up eagerly to await her best friend’s response.

Were they just friends? No, they were more than that. He cared for her more than a friend would, right from the start. Were they just fooling around? No, it was way beyond that at this point, the several failed rehearsals before the wedding providing condemning evidence on the matter. Were they a couple? Not really, but it sure felt like they were, one that could easily put Regina and Robin’s own mushy romanticism to shame.

Emma exhaled deeply, her eyes following Killian’s figure as he reappeared on the beach, placing his guitar on a chair before disappearing again into the hotel.

“We’re just... enjoying one another’s company,” Emma finally answered, causing Regina to let out an exasperated huff, followed by a melodramatic roll of her eyes. “Alright, spit it out, Regina.”

Regina grinned smugly, her eyebrows creasing in determination. “Well, Em, I think you should use tonight to figure out exactly what you want from him, because I think it’s much more than just ‘enjoying his company.’” Regina threw her hands up in the air to perform mock quotations, as if the sarcastic action only further supported the argument that any label other than the one Emma feared the most was in fact what was going on between her and the dashing musician who’d snuck his way past her walls and into her heart.

Emma’s mouth fell agape, struggling to find an appropriate comeback for Regina’s suggestion, but she was interrupted by a light knock on the door.

“Emma,” Regina’s mother called over to them. “A groomsman is at the door for you. He says it’s urgent.”

Emma’s forehead scrunched in confusion as Regina smirked, nodding her head slightly towards the doorway as if to say _I told you so_.

She peeked her head out, careful not to reveal the entire bridal party, her eyes locking on Killian as his gaze joined with hers. He cast his usual charming grin towards her, the one that made her heart flutter and her knees fall weak, and after that conversation with Regina, everything about him seemed like a hazy, intoxicating blur.

“Emma,” he murmured, his voice sounding slightly astonished at the now blushing maid of honor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, a small smirk escaping her lips, her soft curls falling loosely around her face and cascading across her shoulders.

Killian’s eyes continued to study her, pushing on the door a little bit to persuade her out into the hallway. “I just wanted to see you, before everything got all hectic.”

Emma smiled, her eyes glittering at his statement. “Well, you can wait until the ceremony like everybody else.”

Killian frowned, pouting a little bit towards her. “But _Emma_...”

“No!” Emma snapped, chuckling lightly as she tried to wave him off.

Killian stomped his foot in playful protest, causing Emma to laugh even harder, the sound trickling behind her into the dressing room. “What if I forgot my music, love?”

“You’re so full of it, Killian,” she retorted, shaking her head at how ridiculous (and cute and handsome and absolutely _irresistible_ ) he looked in his crisp black suit, the desire to lead him to some dark corner of the hotel before the ceremony popping into her mind for a brief moment. “Go,” Emma demanded, sounding like she was back at school, scolding her students when they misbehaved. She gestured down the hall for him to leave, the growing smile on her lips entirely unconvincing of her command. “I’ll see you later, I promise.”

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Fine,” he complained, grumbling as he walked away. "Later, love."

* * *

Regina fussed over her dress one last time, her father gazing upon her proudly as Emma and the bridesmaids gathered by the doors, forming a line as Regina’s mother opened them. The groomsmen were lined up next to the decorated trellis alongside Robin, who stood casually next to the marriage officiant as the soft hum of Killian’s guitar began to waft through the air and the entire audience turned around to view the parade of family and friends signaling Regina’s impending arrival.

Killian waited impatiently for Emma’s turn, glancing up from his music every so often to watch the doorway, sighing when Emma finally stepped out into the light donning a sapphire dresses that just reached her knees, her heels clicking along the wooden planks as she made her way down the aisle, his eyes locking onto hers when she glanced in his direction.

She chuckled breathlessly when he blinked not once but twice at her figure gliding towards the front, almost as if he couldn’t believe she was actually real, before smiling in his direction with that soft expression he'd thought about earlier. His face continued to light up at the sight of her, his lips quirking up to mirror her expression, noticing the slight blush creeping up on her cheeks as she made her way to her spot alongside the bridesmaids, settling next to where Regina would eventually stand.

The audience cooed as a little boy waltzed down the aisle with a satin pillow, followed by a young girl who practically skipped to Killian’s lilting guitar licks, throwing pink rose petals up in the air, dancing as they floated towards the ground around her.

Emma giggled before her gaze shifted back towards him, aware that he was the only person in the ceremony not focused on the small children or the procession, but rather, on _her_ , his gaze practically drinking her in. Emma scrunched her brow, her eyes squinting as if to inquire inaudibly about his obvious gawking.

“You look beautiful,” he mouthed, followed by a bold wink before returning his devotion towards his music.

Emma felt the blush on her cheeks grow warmer as she brought her attention back to the processional, desperately attempting to keep her eyes off Killian, off the way his fingers moved so nimbly through his guitar licks, the way his eyes glanced back towards her every so often, his stare inviting and caring and too much for right now. Thankfully, Regina’s figure finally came into view, and Emma was startled out of her haze by the loud gasps at the sight of the beautiful bride being ushered down the aisle by her doting father towards a beaming Robin.

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant spoke after the music ended. “We are gathered here today to attend the nuptials of Regina and Robin, two people who have decided to embark on the path of love and matrimony in the arms of one another.”

Emma let her eyes wander away from Regina and Robin, catching a quick glance of Killian as he shuffled into his spot in the bridal party, his eyes locking onto hers again, nearly memorizing the way she looked in the dim sunlight of the late afternoon.

He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raising in question, but Emma shrugged her shoulders indifferently, offering him a quick smile before turning her attention back towards Regina.

“Regina and Robin would like to recite their own vows,” the officiant stated, gesturing in the direction of the couple.

Regina nodded, squeezing Robin’s hands. “I, Regina, take you, Robin, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love and I vow to love you more with each passing day.”

 _One true love_ _._ Killian’s mind fought with the meaning behind those words, his mind shifting towards his feelings about Emma. It was true that he wasn’t sure what to label them as, but he was certain she didn’t either. And yet, it felt like a romance straight out of a storybook, as if he was always meant to find her, to fall for her, to teach her to trust again.

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh and cry with you, through the good times and the bad, regardless of the barriers that we may face,” Regina continued through shaky breaths and audible sniffles. “Today, I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward, for as long as we both shall live.”

Killian found himself dozing off into a dream state, imagining that it was Emma saying those words instead, telling him that she would trust him and respect him, laugh and cry with him, through all the good times as well as the bad, that she wanted to give her hand and her heart to him. A deep emotion stirred in his heart, the thought that he and Emma could very well be l—

“May we have the ring?” the officiant asked, as Emma handed over the small gold band, smiling as Regina placed the ring on Robin’s sturdy finger, tears teeming in her best friend’s eyes.

The officiant gestured towards the groom. “And now, Robin.” Robin’s younger brother, John, mimicked Emma’s previous action, handing a delicate band off to his sibling.

Robin grinned broadly as he took Regina’s hand in his, his thumb delicately brushing over it, his expression growing lighthearted as the diamond hovered over Regina’s ring finger. “And I, Robin, take you, Regina, to be my friend, my lover, the future mother of my children and, most importantly, my wife.”

Killian’s gaze fell back towards Emma, studying her as she fidgeted nervously, refraining from glancing in his direction. He wondered what she was thinking, if her mind was racing with thoughts of him, if these words struck a nerve in her heart as it did in his.

Robin cleared his throat, his hand squeezing Regina’s. “I will be yours in periods of plenty and want, sickness and health, bliss and sorrow, failure and triumph. I pledge to cherish and respect you, support and defend you, comfort and inspire you, and stay with you, for all eternity.”

Killian felt his heart lurch into his throat, everything concerning Emma becoming suddenly clear. He wanted more than anything to give Emma the same promises that Robin was giving Regina, to care for her, support her dreams, defend her honor, encourage her to be resilient, and most of all, spend the rest of his days at her side because he couldn’t imagine living his life without the glow of her smile or the warmth of her personality, without everything that was _her_.

“And by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, as Emma’s eyes began to well with tears. “You may kiss the bride!”

Killian caught a quick glimpse of Emma, her expression full of joy for the newly united couple whose lips were now immersed in a passionate kiss. The audience cheered and Emma squealed in excitement as Killian continued to examine her, the small of her waist, the delicate angle of her shoulders, the soft glow of her locks against the orange sunset, her now glistening jade eyes holding so much hope and elation, all the things about her that made him _love_ her.

He was in _love_ with her.

He _loved_ Emma Swan.

And tonight, he had every intention of telling her that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RUZpOsL1JQ)

“ _Emma Swan_ ,” Killian chanted as he snuck up behind her, wrapping her snugly against his chest. He pulled her away from her fellow bridesmaids who were busy chatting about the nuptials and gazing lovingly at Regina and Robin snuggling into one another at the dais.

“You need something?” she asked, spinning around to face him.

He nodded towards the stage before leaning into her. “We need to perform the first dance, love,” he murmured into her ear, his voice low, sparking something inside her.

“Oh, right,” she responded, naturally melting into him, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the labels of his coat.

“You’re still nervous?” he teased, his hands dancing low on her back, tracing calming circles along her spine.

Emma shrugged her shoulders. “No, it’s just...”

“Emma, you’ll be magnificent up there,” Killian reassured her, his fingers still idly caressing her back in gentle strokes. “Have I ever told you a lie?”

She shook her head as he slinked his hand into hers, entwining their fingers together and ushering her to join the band up on stage. It was strange, this care and attention he was paying her, always reassuring her when she needed it most, reading her as if he knew her better than she knew herself.

She never had this kind of connection with Neal (she was always more invested in their relationship than he was, dragging him towards a future he could’ve cared less about). But with Killian, it was _different_. It was as if he knew what he wanted, knew it was _her_ , and wouldn’t stop until she believed in his words, until she believed in _herself_.

The band finished their pop tune amidst cheers from the crowd, causing Killian to roll his eyes, mumbling some sort of curse under his breath, the drummer chuckling in response as he picked up his guitar, swinging it over his shoulder and nodding towards the microphone for Emma, lopsided grin growing on his lips.

She swallowed thickly as the crowd’s attention turned towards her. “Hi, I’m Emma, I’m the maid of honor,” she began as she wrapped her fingers around the microphone. “And instead of a speech, we,” she continued, gesturing towards Killian who had inched awfully close to her, still grinning encouragingly as she spoke. “Well, _we_ thought it would be appropriate to sing something for the couple. So, Regina and Robin, this one’s for you.”

Killian and his band began to play a soft introduction, his guitar licks slow and steady as he nodded towards Emma, his grin accompanied by that comforting stare that made her stomach flip and her heart swell as she began to sing, her voice ringing throughout the space, the crowd’s gaze fixated on the married couple waltzing out onto the dance floor in the middle of the large tent overlooking the lazy ripple of the ocean.

Killian glanced over at Emma, his mouth curving up into a smile as the lyrics fell from her lips. She could feel the blush creeping up on her cheeks, as the words resonated above the continuous strum of his guitar.

_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am home again_   
_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am whole again_

The low rumble of drums began after her, the music increasing in strength, vibrating throughout the space. Killian’s fingers moved nimbly across the strings as he sauntered forward, breathing deeply before he began to sing. His glance turned towards Emma every so often, always followed by his infamous smirk.

_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am young again_   
_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am fun again_

She leaned back in to the microphone for the chorus, crooning alongside his gruff tone as other couples joined Regina and Robin on the dance floor. His eyes studied her graceful movements, the alluring sway that accompanied the rise and fall of the music, the glide of her hips alongside each guitar riff.

_However far away I will always love you_   
_However long I stay I will always love you_   
_Whatever words I say I will always love you_   
_I will always love you_

She heard her voice reverberate throughout the space, comforted by the low grumble of his voice on the final words of each line, the sound sending a sharp tingle down her spine, the thought of it soft and gravelly in her ear, chanting her name like a solemn oath blinking into her mind for a brief flicker of a moment.

She closed her eyes, her hands draping around the microphone as she belted out the words, the truth hidden in them so blatantly accurate about whatever her and Killian were.

_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am free again_   
_Whenever I'm alone with you_   
_You make me feel like I am clean again_

She did feel free with him, whole again, and most of all, at _home_. Her home never felt like it was someplace (something her orphaned childhood taught her), but rather, her home felt like it was someone. It was...

God, it was _him_. It was _Killian_.

She glimpsed over at him, her eyes drawn to his sure fingers as they slid over the strings of his guitar, his own gaze continuously skimming her frame, as if she would disappear if he withdrew them. And dear God his eyes, so inviting, so striking and so _blue_ , as if they were the sea and she could drown in them, could lose sense of her surroundings and become completely consumed by them.

_However far away I will always love you  
However long I stay I will always love you_ _  
_ _Whatever words I say I will always love you_   
_I will always love you_

Killian strolled backwards, tilting into his fellow band mate and improvising a solo on his guitar, his lids of his eyes fluttering shut as the music enveloped him. Emma followed the quick movement of his fingers, entranced by his talent, fascinated by his ability to express himself so assertively, without reserve or fear. She wondered if he was like that with her as well ( _of course, he is_ , she heard whispered in the back of her mind).

 _However far away I will always love you_  
 _However long I stay I will always love you  
_ _Whatever words I say I will always love you_

 _I will always love you_ , he sang with such conviction alongside her reluctant vocals, his eyes wide and full of compassion and adoration and _desire_ , the cerulean shade disappearing amongst the black of his pupils, the thought of him staring at her with those same eyes, loving every inch of her as if she were a sight to behold sending a jolting pulse through her veins.

The words continued to roll off his lips as if they were a promise from his own heart instead of a well wish for their mutual friends and she felt her throat grow suddenly dry, her stomach coiling with her own desires, practically frowning when his voice dipped away from the music.

He let her finish out the lyrics solo, strolling closer with his guitar, taking advantage of whatever thoughts were distracting her from the performance at hand. His fingers continued to run through a sultry guitar riff, her voice faintly echoing through the microphone as he inched even closer, filling the empty space surrounding her.

_I'll always love you  
I'll always love you_   
_‘Cause I love you_   
_Love, love, love..._

She let her gaze trail down to his instrument, before gradually raising it to meet his comforting stare and assuring smile, her teeth biting down on her lip, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as he continued to pluck the guitar strings with style.

He was more than she could have imagined. He was funny, charming, witty, _devilishly_ handsome, and above all else, he truly and deeply cared for her. She could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her, like she was the most marvelous thing on the goddamn planet.

The realization washed over her suddenly, everything becoming quite clear as he strummed the final chord of the song.

She finally knew what she wanted.

* * *

Killian’s band continued to play throughout the evening, their lead singer visibly absent from the stage, wandering around and chatting up old friends instead. He glanced in Emma’s direction every so often, offering a pleased smile or a bold smirk, always followed by an expression filled with ease, his eyes softening at the sight of her before returning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

The few stolen glances throughout the ceremony and the performance were enough to burn through her, his striking blue eyes lighting the embers within her, the ones that hadn’t been rightfully tended to since that night after the bar, since that first kiss. There’d been other ones (quick pecks, relaxed pleasantries, short make-out sessions), but never with the burning passion of that first evening, when she’d all but pounced on him and he’d reciprocated.

She realized she’d been staring at him for a while, ignoring the chatty bridesmaids at her side, the ones who talked about work and life and things she honestly couldn’t wrap her head around, because the only thing she could think about was Killian’s lips against hers, tugging and pulling, his steady hands roaming her body, pressing her against him and overwhelming her senses.

He sort of grinned towards her, tipping his head humorously in her direction and chuckling as he moved effortlessly towards the bar to refill his drink.

Regina was still too caught up in the festivities to even notice the silent conversation between her maid of honor and the dashing groomsman, and Emma was grateful she didn’t have to explain her next action to her best friend as she strode across the dance floor, shuffling past the group of teenage relatives bouncing around to the music.

Killian tipped his head towards the bartender, sitting himself down on one of the stools to properly nurse his glass of whiskey as Emma crept up behind him, leaning down close to his ear. She placed her hand softly on his shoulder, watching as his body tensed under her touch and snaked her arm around his torso, placing the extra room key in his free hand, the one she’d snagged earlier in the dressing room.

“Meet me in ten minutes,” she whispered, her voice causing a tremor to run down his spine.

He turned around quickly. “Are you serious, Emma?” he asked, almost choking on his own speech, blinking frantically as if he was hallucinating, his focus on the sultry nature of her eyes, the wicked nature of her smile.

Her brow furrowed as she reached down to snatch his glass, gulping down an awfully large sip. She sighed as the liquor fell down her throat, smirking back at him before walking away, letting her fingers graze across his back as she left.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he responded, his face still stunned as she sauntered off into the hotel lobby, her frame illuminated by the glowing moonlight as she made her way up the sprawling staircase, glancing once over her shoulder as if to seal her decision before disappearing down a darkened hallway.

* * *

Killian sat impatiently at the bar, drumming his fingers anxiously, watching the clock like a hawk before jumping when only four minutes were up. Bloody _hell_ , he couldn’t take this.

He chugged the remnants of his whiskey, discreetly exiting the tent and rushing into the hotel lobby, leaping up the steps two at a time. He turned down a hallway to see Emma, suddenly recalling the determination behind her stare when she’d sung earlier that evening.

She had her back arched slightly against the door, biting her bottom lip in anticipation, her heels and handbag hanging precariously off her fingers. She turned her head to see him striding towards her with a smirk that begged to be devoured, a rogue eyebrow arched, his gaze full of scandalous intent.

“About time, _mate_.”

He pushed her firmly against the door, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, his arousal unmistakably obviously against her thigh. It was clear the past few minutes had driven him completely mad, and she felt a sense of pride run through her, knowing she’d caused it.

He trailed his mouth down her neck, nipping lightly at her skin. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking of since you walked away, love?” he spoke through gritted teeth, his stubble scratching her skin.

“What’s that?” she answered breathlessly, throwing her head back when he moved towards her delicate shoulder, placing warm kisses across it.

“How I’m going to get you out of this dress,” he hummed against her skin, grinding his hips against her, grinning when she whimpered breathlessly. “How I’m going to ravage every inch of your body and devour every part of you I can get my hands on.”

Her back arched against the door, not caring if they were in a public place as she scraped her hand across his chest before leisurely loosening the knot in his tie. “Really, now? ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about that since the dressing room.”

Killian paused, lifting his head up from her shoulder, his awestruck expression giving her the opportunity to swipe the room key out of his hand. “Bloody hell, woman.”

She smiled in response, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, winking at him in the most mischievous manner. She turned her body around within his grasp, sighing when his fingers pushed her curls aside so his lips could brush softly against her back. She quickly opened the door, leading him through the doorway by his tie, tossing her handbag and heels absentmindedly into the dark room.

Killian kicked the door closed with his foot as he simultaneously reached out for her, grabbing her hips roughly and turning her around to resume their previous position. He peppered kisses down her neck, sucking on as much skin as he could get his greedy lips on. She brushed her hands across his chest and around his broad shoulders, pushing his suit jacket back, smirking as it dropped onto the floor with a thud. She moved her fingers towards his shirt, nimbly working on the buttons.

“Off as well, I suppose?” he asked, stepping back. She nodded, studying him as he shrugged it off his shoulders, letting it fall alongside his jacket.

He sauntered back towards her, his grin downright voracious as he forcefully pushed her back against the door, placing his hands on the small of her back, causing her hips to arch into his. Her hands roamed every inch of his bare chest, tugging clumsily at patches of hair to pull him closer.

“As much as I admire how incredible you look in this dress,” he crooned into her ear, his icy exhale causing her to shiver, rough fingers brushing across her skin, sliding one strap of her dress to the side. “It is awfully confining, love.”

He moved the other strap off her shoulder, his fingers fiddling with the zipper on the back as he pulled it down slowly, a ravenous expression flashing across his face when the dress collapsed to the floor. His face grew softer instantaneously, almost mirroring his expression from earlier, those stolen moments when his tender gaze met hers outside the dressing room, and during the ceremony, and while he serenaded her. They passed through her mind as he fumbled for her hand, weaving his fingers into hers at her side.

He knelt down to press tender kisses to her stomach as Emma trembled in anticipation, his mouth working over her body at a tantalizing pace, reveling in the discovery of each new inch of skin the loss of the dress uncovered. He hummed when she placed her hands in his hair to guide him, his teeth nibbling lightly as he made his way back towards her mouth, flicking his tongue over the red marks his beard left on her skin.

Emma whined, throwing her free hand into a fist at her side as he teased the skin around her bra, his knee moving to the empty space between her legs, drawing a whimper from her throat before he crashed his lips onto hers. She slinked one leg around his thigh to pull him in further, her hands grazing his exposed back, tracing every muscle and vein, digging into his skin when his knee began to move in taunting circles.

Emma reached down to find the button on his trousers, quickly unfastening it and shoving them down his thighs. He kicked them towards her dress, smirking at the obvious distraction his undressing had created, using the opportunity to pick her up, wrap her legs around his waist and carry her towards the bed.

He attempted to push his shoes and socks off at the heel as he walked, causing him to miss a step and trip over the edge of the bed, collapsing onto the mattress with Emma pinned underneath him.

“Smooth, Jones,” she whispered, followed by a light, airy giggle, her hands stroking through his smooth hair.

He raised one eyebrow, attempting to not laugh himself. “ _Swan_ ,” he responded sternly before lowering his lips to press a light kiss upon her in a failed attempt to suppress her laughter. He brushed off her lips, hushing her choked giggles, her beaming smile shining like a beacon in the dark room. “Stop laughing at me.”

“Make me,” she countered, her expression irresistibly innocent and slightly suggestive.

She watched his face twist into a grin, accepting her challenge and crushing his lips back onto hers, a groan escaping his throat when her lower half curved into him, the warmth of their bodies writhing together on the mattress causing a familiar heat to pool low in her stomach. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was ablaze and she wanted nothing more than to have him, to be with him, to _feel_ him. It terrified her, this feeling of complete and utter desire of another person, and it scared her even more to have it returned tenfold.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts, easily distracted by his lips grazing her neck, pecking lightly at the space beneath her ear. His hands lingered on her back, unclasping her bra in a calculated motion and carelessly throwing it to the floor before returning his gaze, his fingers, his _lips_ to his worship of her, bare-chested, flushed and completely _vulnerable_.

“ _Gods_ , you look like a vision,” he groaned, his voice low and husky, his mouth dipping down to adorn her breasts.

She sighed in relief as he placed a soft kiss to the skin between them, a breathless moan catching in her throat when his mouth and tongue began to glide over each one, her body automatically bending into him. He reached down to toy with the lacy hem of her underwear, and his fiery touch caused Emma to grumble a curse under her breath, annoyance evident in her tone as he worked slowly to remove them, the shape of his smirk trailing down her torso, his tongue tracing a path towards his fingers.

She lifted her hips up to persuade him as he reached the hem, his tongue and teeth pushing the garment down her thigh agonizingly slow. His hands brushed across her skin, and she remembered when those same fingers plucked the strings of his guitar, firm yet gentle, steady and sure (and she’d be lying if she denied spending most of their performance pondering what else those fingers could do).

He pushed himself up with his forearm, gratified with her current state. “You’re a vision to behold like this,” he purred into her thigh, kissing it chastely, temporarily pausing his tormenting seduction of her. “All frustrated because you want me.”

“Killian, _please_ ,” she whispered when his fingers grazed the inside of her thigh, her loose curls falling in front of her eyes as she squirmed beneath him, longing for him to continue the foreplay he seemed so incredibly gifted at. He finished pulling the garment down her legs, his body following it before she kicked them to the side. He leaned down to kiss her foot, then her ankle, and his tongue drew a smooth line up her leg and back towards her breasts, where he resumed his lavish devotion, suckling each one with care and precision.

Her hands fumbled with the top of his briefs, pushing them down and grasping onto him, proud when a destroyed grunt escaped his lips. He toyed with her for a moment longer, basking in the soft whines that slipped out as her legs wrapped around his hips, tempting him to enter. Her hands squeezed firmly around him, silently wishing him to fill her without ever uttering the words. He groaned under her touch, her fingers enticing him with want and need, and with one swift thrust, she could feel a spark dance throughout her body, her eyes focused on the image of his face: wrecked and wrought with yearning.

“Emma. Gods, _Emma_ ,” he chanted, like a prayer meant to be heard in secret, meant only for her. “You’re breathtaking.”

He continued to scatter kisses across her skin as her hands roamed across every inch of his body, his gaze peering up towards her, a swirl of blue and black adoring her, mixing with the intoxicating hazel green of her eyes. He slid into her again, deliberately slow, as if he was making _love_ to her, the feelings they’d let simmer for so long bubbling to the surface.

Emma felt herself returning the emotion with every rise of her hips, her nails digging relentlessly into his shoulders, chasing her release. His head nestled into the crook of her neck, his speed increasing with each thrust, his teeth biting down harshly on her collarbone. She let out a soft whimper as she wrapped her legs around his hips, tighter, harsher, as if the space between them was still too much, and the change in position hit a spot deep inside of her.

“ _Killian_ ,” she exhaled, the intensity rising as they moved simultaneously with one another, their bodies blushing with desire as his fingers intertwined with hers above her head.

He worked his way across her exposed skin with his lips, her hips curving upwards, practically floating above the bed as her walls fluttered around him, pure lust throbbing through her veins. She could feel the intense passion behind their actions, the way they moved together, the squeeze of their hands entwined, the warmth of their lips on each other’s skin, as if their bodies were created for this sole purpose.

“Emma, _Emma_. I _love_ you,” he chanted, the words causing a spark to light inside of her, the feeling of white-hot heat enveloping her as she heard his words echo alongside each driving thrust, each soft kiss, each gasp and whimper and moan. “Gods, I _love_ you so much, you bloody brilliant woman.”

She opened her mouth to respond, interrupted by the flash of pleasure overwhelming her body, her body tensing as her head fell back onto the pillow, a loud cry escaping her lips as she shuddered underneath him.

“ _Killian_ ,” she practically sang as she raised her hips up towards his, helping him to find his own release, her intended response all but forgotten against the mingled echo of their pants, their chests heaving as he wrapped her tightly in his arms. “ _Killian._ ”


	15. Chapter 15

She could still see the blurry faces of Mr. and Mrs. Swan out of the back window of the car as the child services officer drove her away. Mrs. Swan was caressing her protruding belly as Mr. Swan waved goodbye, the car driving through the busy streets of Queens, her young eyes awestruck as the familiar buildings disappeared from the window, replaced by shoddy apartment buildings and dark alleyways.

She remembered the odd musk of her new home in the Bronx, and the loud Hispanic lady who gave her a small room that she was sure was a closet beforehand, sharing everything with five or six other children who seemed just as lonely as her. It wasn’t long before she was taken again, this time because her “new mom” was arrested on drug charges, and she was shuffled off to her next borough.

The next few homes were in Brooklyn. One was an elderly couple who only kept her for a year, until the husband started beating her before he went to sleep and the wife died, another was a rich family who were in it for the tax break, but gave her up after a few months when they realized raising a child was too much of a burden on their high-class lifestyle.

She remembered getting relocated to a modest home on Staten Island, with a sprawling backyard and a pool and a couple who had two older adult children but could no longer conceive. She spent a large chunk of her life growing up there, remembering the constant love and attention, the friends she quickly made at school. The family even had a dog named Casper, a small mutt covered in short, tan hair with a affinity for cuddling. He’d jump on her the minute she walked in the door and it felt like the only pleasant image of her childhood.

Leaving that home felt more painful than the distant memory of her first family’s farewell. The husband died, and the wife grew depressed, and so, as usual, Emma was sent away again, this time to a boarding house in Manhattan when she was fourteen. She realized quickly, due to her older age, that she wasn’t getting a family, or at least not one she could keep. She grew to accept it, focusing on her schoolwork, joining the choir and the dance team at the high school she enrolled in. The child services officer assigned to her since birth promised to keep her there so she could at least receive a solid education and a high school diploma, something most foster children never attained.

Emma’s home never existed... until now, as she rustled against the sheets, reveling in the warmth they provided against her bare skin. She stirred slowly, rolling over to see the scruffy musician at her side, one hand clutched around his pillow tightly, the other placed comfortably around her waist, his mouth slightly open as he murmured her name quietly in his sleep.

Last night was more than she could have hoped for, and everything she dreamed sex would be with him. She had expected him to be an affectionate lover, but she’d never expected half of what had actually transpired: the way he’d chanted her name like a hushed secret, the way he relished in each new part of her body, the way he wanted her enough to drive him insane. She felt like she was floating, a familiar warmth forming between her thighs again, prompting her to debate whether or not to wake his pleasant rest to sate her own need.

She could definitely go for another round of the enjoyable activities of last night, her mind racing with the sound of his pants mixed with her own whimpers, the soft grunt as he pushed into her, the delicate graze of his fingertips against her breasts and thighs and hips, the way her name rolled off his tongue, the way he murmured that he loved her against her skin...

It dawned on her, in her aroused morning stupor, that he’d said that, he’d sung that, he’d meant that.

_I love you_.

Three words that all of a sudden made her feel like she was choking, drowning, caged.

He loved her. She was loved. It was enough and too much at the same time, and her instinct told her to flee, that he would hurt her like everyone else, like the Swans did, like Neal did. She roused out of bed, praying he wouldn’t wake up when his arm thumped onto the mattress.

She held her head in her hands, wrapping the fluffy comforter around her frame, feelings welling in her chest. He loved her, and  _damn it_ , she loved him too. She knew that, that’s why last night happened, because she loved him, her thighs tightening unwillingly at the thought of the handsome musician whose bed she was in.

She could hear him grumble, obviously woken by her minor freak out (she must have said something out loud, although she couldn’t quite remember). He sat up, kneeling behind her, the sheets wrapping loosely around his hips. He placed an arm around her waist to pull her close to him, pressing his lips against her back, his stubble rubbing between her shoulder blades. His mouth followed the arch of her spine, his fingertips rubbing circles into her hip.

“You’re up awfully early,” he groused, his voice thick with sleep, and she cursed the fact that she’d been aroused since she woke up, his own apparent arousal poking through the thin bed sheets. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

She sat there for a moment, feeling the tug of his fingers against her hip, encouraging her to lay back down, gear up for a second round of whatever it was they’d started last night.

( _Love_ , a voice whispered in the back of her head, but she willfully ignored it.)

“You love me?” she stated, the words mingling alongside the sound of his soft kisses.

He turned her head around gently in an effort to see her, his fingers twiddling within the strands of her hair. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked hesitantly, as his hand brushed over her shoulder.

He leaned in, his breath blending with hers as he pulled her into him. “Come here, Emma,” he whispered, lowering them back down onto the bed to face one another. “I’ll  _show_ you I mean it.”

She trembled a little bit, felt her lips quiver, her throat grow dry as an emotion boiled inside her that she hadn’t expected at his declaration of love.

Doubt.

Killian moved his lips towards her bare neck, nibbling lightly as his hands roamed underneath the comforter, pushing it off her to reveal her body, slowly reawakening her indecent thoughts. He traced back up to her mouth, nuzzling against her nose before leaning in for a tender kiss, her lips parting to allow him entrance, her idea from earlier gradually coming into fruition.

She gasped when he brushed his lower half against her, obviously waiting for her approval to continue, slowly dragging his lips down her chest, his fingertips roaming across her bare skin. Killian hummed as she grinded against him eagerly, and he slipped into her with ease.

She used the motion to suppress the nervous thoughts in her mind and yet, she couldn’t get them to remain quiet, even as his mouth grazed over her breasts, even as his strong hands guided her hips alongside his lower half. He  _loved_ her and it terrified her because she knew he deserved someone better than her, someone who was fully healed, who could love him without insecurities.

He continued to shower affection over her, grinning when a small cry of pleasure escaped her lips, but she still wondered how absolutely senseless she must be to think this was real, to think that she could have this happiness, to think that he wouldn’t leave when he got bored or tired of her, to think he wouldn’t be just like  _Neal_.

“No,” she breathed out, her apprehension boiling over, the doubtful voices overtaking her actions, causing her to push away from his grasp. Her hands balled into hard fists as she shoved him away, protesting his advances and she sat herself back up on the bed, consequently shivering as the warmth of his body left hers, reaching for the comforter to wrap it loosely around her. “I can’t...”

His face twisted with concern as Emma fiddled with her now flattened curls, a small sniffle audible in between her shaky inhales.

“Emma,” he pleaded, as he sat up, crouching next to her, reaching out to hold her but afraid his touch would do nothing to soothe her. “I don’t understand. We were fine a second ago.”

“I can’t do this,” she mumbled as she stood up and marched towards her rumbled clothes, dropping the comforter to the floor and slinking the dress over her figure.

Killian shook his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in frustration. “Emma, _Emma_ ,” he repeated, trying to garner her attention. “You’re not making any sense.”

She pretended to ignore him as she bolted for the door, intent on making a hasty exit, but Killian sprung up on the mattress, reaching out and spinning her around with an undeniable force that almost made her topple onto him.

“Can’t do  _what_?” he asked firmly, his voice strict and unwavering, his eyes pleading with her to explain her odd behavior. “Answer me, love.”

Emma bit her bottom lip, shaking her head, trying to fight off the tears but they began to flow freely, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch and let him take care of her like he’d done so many times before. She needed to be stronger than she felt, she needed fight the urge to wrap herself up in his arms and sob against his chest. She needed to do this for  _him_. She needed to let him go before either of them got hurt, before  _she_ got hurt.

He realized instantly what she intended to do, practically reading her thoughts as they sped through her mind, his behavior growing erratic, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please,  _please_ , don’t do this,” he whispered softly, the words piercing through her as he lifted his other hand to cup her cheek, brushing away the tears that began to slip from her eyes, trying to soothe the obvious tremor in her body. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, struggling to get her to calm down, his heart aching as the tears fell wet and hot across his face. “Emma,  _Emma_ , I love you.”

“I know,” she muttered, her voice small and brittle as his grasp on her wrist loosened enough for her to twist out of it. “That’s why I have to leave. Because I can’t take a risk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She had to be breaking his heart, and it pained her to do this... to him, especially to  _him_. But he deserved better than her. She knew that. And she couldn’t risk letting herself love someone if the risk that they’d abandon her was always an option.

His eyes swirled with torment, and she felt her stomach churn and her heart clench and her head throb, and the thought of looking at him made her hate herself. He said nothing, and that killed her even more as she backed away, refusing to look at him as she headed for the door, picking up her handbag and leaving abruptly.

The door closing felt like a solid shot to his chest, a wound reopening that he was so sure she had been healing. Her words played over in his mind, sounding like a deafening cry, the echo of her sobs trickling down the hallway transposing into a soft murmur as he felt her drift away from him.

_I can’t take a risk. I can’t take a risk. I can’t take a risk... on you_.

* * *

_Killian loves me_.

She couldn’t believe that she’d broken his heart in that fashion, that she’d broke her own as well in the process. She wanted to go back, say she didn’t mean it, tell him how much she loved him, how much she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life because nobody had ever made her feel as loved as he did. But she didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her, if she’d ever forgive herself.

_He loves me, he loves me, he loves me_ , she heard in her mind as she fumbled for her own room key, shaking uncontrollably as she opened the door. She slammed it shut, the ache in her heart stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. She stumbled into the bathroom, ridding herself of the dress, the one he’d slipped her out of last night before...

She turned on the shower, stepping under the hot spray, sighing at the small comfort it provided her. Yet, there shouldn’t be any comfort for her when she’d just destroyed him, this man who loved her so unconditionally despite all the stupid insecurities she let him see. God, she’d done what the Swans had done to her when she was five, what the Bronx and Brooklyn families had done because of their own selfish reasons, what the Staten Island family had done because they had run out of love to offer her, what Neal had done to her because he wanted a different future than the one she had planned.

She collapsed onto the tub floor, head sunken into her palms as tears continued to fall down her face.

_I love you_ , was all she could think of, cursing herself under her breath.  _I love you, Killian_.

* * *

Killian made his way out of the train station, heading into the strange, unfamiliar city. He caught a cab rather quickly, giving the driver an address and directions that he vaguely remembered from the last time he was here. Gosh, had it really been this long?

The cab pulled up to a tall apartment complex overlooking the inner harbor. He tipped the driver, carrying his things out of the trunk and heading towards the entrance. He pulled out a worn piece of paper, reading the code off it and punching it into the small keypad. He pushed on the door once he heard the buzzer ring and headed towards the elevator, smiling kindly at the pleasant brunette who followed him in.

“What floor are you going to?”

“15,” he stated quietly, scratching that place behind his ear, the habit his mother had tried to swat out of him.

“You visiting someone?” she asked, an interested expression growing on her face.

He really wasn’t interested in making small talk after the weekend he’d just experienced, but he politely answered anyway. “Aye,” he answered with a small nod.

The brunette pressed only his floor, turning around to look at him. “You’re Irish, right?”

Killian nodded again, almost annoyed that she was asking so many questions of him.

“My neighbor is Irish,” she added as the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. “Maybe we’ll cross paths someday.”

She had a flirtatious swagger to her walk as she sauntered down the other end of the hallway, but Killian just wanted to get into a warm bed and wake up from this nightmare, release himself from this bad dream where everything he wanted slipped through his fingers yet again.

Apartment 15-F. He knocked lightly, hoping she was home. He’d meant to call on the train, meant to call in the cab, but he couldn’t find the words to say what he’d been feeling over the past two days when he’d done nothing but spend his time lying awake, staring blankly at the doorway, his apartment punishing him with memories of something he couldn’t have. So he left, just up and left, because he needed to get away, needed to run. That’s what his family does best, right?

The door opened slowly, and a short woman with tousled blonde hair and warm hazel eyes stood on the other side, slightly dumbfounded by his presence.

“Killy?” she asked in a worrisome tone, noticing the wear on his face and the dark circles around his eyes. He looked tired, and she stepped forward, encircling him in a large hug.

“I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer, Jane” he breathed out, finally exhaling for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

She linked her thin arms around his neck. “Welcome to Boston, little brother.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDwtfKn5Ljo)

Emma sat in the quiet of her apartment, attempting to grade the mound of homework assignments she’d put off, persuasive essays about _The Outsider_ pointing out something from the book you disagreed with. She was about halfway through the pile of poorly written paragraphs and half-assed opinions (and a glass of wine, as usual) when she noticed the dates on the assignments, realizing it really had been a month since Regina and Robin’s wedding. A whole month had passed without notice, and considering how consumed Emma was with preparations for the impending dance show and the final marking period of the school year, she wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t noticed the time between now and _that night_.

Work had been her saving grace, the one thing that kept Emma grounded and away from the thoughts of her mind (and _heart_ , because of course he had weaseled his way in there, despite her best efforts to keep everyone out). But as the show date approached, it began to dawn on her that Killian’s absence from the dance show was slowly weighing her down. He was supposed to be here, supposed to be rehearsing a song he _wrote_ , but he wasn’t, and it was all her fault, _her_ fault.

She thought about calling him, thought about apologizing for what she did, but it all felt too fresh. How could he ever forgive her after what she’d done? She still hated herself for it, the pained expression that covered his face as she walked away still haunting her memories, but she knew better than to open herself up again, knew that eventually, like everyone else in her life, he would leave, leave, _leave_.

She picked up another paper—Henry’s—and she found herself suddenly drawn in by the teenager’s words.

_The part of the book I disagree with most is Johnny Cade’s final words to Ponyboy: “Stay gold.” The statement refers to a poem by Robert Frost, entitled_ Nothing Gold Can Stay _._ _The poem itself refers to the inevitably of change and that eventually, all good things must come to an end. The first stanza of the poem states that things change very quickly, but towards the end of the poem, Robert Frost suggests that everything changes, regardless of your own fears or worries._

_Johnny Cade mentions this poem because he believes Ponyboy can be innocent and that he’s more than just a bad kid. He wants him to hold onto his good qualities. However, I believe it’s wrong for Johnny Cade to tell Ponyboy to never change because that’s impossible, especially considering what the boys did in the story._

_I believe that change is okay and natural. Without change, your life would be boring and you would never grow from your experiences. There’s a possibility that Ponyboy may change again, considering he’s still a teenager, and I think it’s unlikely that he’ll remain innocent forever._

_As Robert Frost’s poem suggests, good things must come to an end, but maybe that’s because an even better thing is on the horizon. I believe that one should never stay gold, because sometimes change can make you really, really happy, if you let it._

Emma shoved the paper back on her coffee table, the final phrase of his essay repeating in her mind.

_If you let it._

She shakily picked up her cell phone, scrolling until she reached his name, her thumb hovering over Killian’s phone number until she took in a sharp breath, clicking it before she changed her mind.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

“You’ve reached Killian Jones. I’m unavailable at the present moment. Leave a message and I’ll courteously reply in due time. Cheers!”

She hung up.

* * *

A whole month since she’d broke his heart, a whole bloody month since _Emma Swan_ broke his heart (or at least that’s what the calendar said, not that he’d admit he was keeping track).

The sentence itself felt wrong when it echoed in his mind, but it was the truth. She’d left, for whatever reason, (although he knew the reason: because she was too scared to love him... or maybe she never loved him, though the latter seemed too farfetched to be the actual truth).

Whatever it was, Killian couldn’t bear seeing her, ignoring the will in his heart to call her, to force her to answer his questions, to just go back to New York and make her admit what he already knew she felt.

Boston was his temporary home now, at least until he could figure things out. He felt guilty for abandoning the band like this, cursing himself for the impersonal voicemail he’d left his drummer as well as the selfish explanation he’d given Robin for his abrupt departure. But the risk of running into Emma at the bar loomed in the back of his mind, and he just knew he wouldn’t be able to see her.

He wondered if she knew he’d left, if she was aware that he’d gone to Boston and had no intention of returning. He leaned back in his desk chair, closing his eyes, forcing the image of her haunting green gaze and soft smile out of his mind.

“Killian?”

He heard a gentle voice call from the doorway, his face turning around to see his sister, Jane.

She smiled, clad in some skimpy outfit that Liam would have scolded her for, long blonde hair pinned back into a messy bun. “I’m heading out with a few friends.”

He nodded, turning back towards the desk. “See you later, Jane.”

Jane bounced on the balls of her feet before strolling over to him. “You should really come, get your mind off things. It’s an open mic night, so maybe we could perform something. You know, like old times.” She nudged his shoulder lightly with her hip.

“That’s quite alright,” he answered, waving her off without looking at her. “But I’d rather not.”

Jane sat on the desk. “What are you working on here?” she asked, messing up the piles of paper he left strewn about.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mess about with my things,” he leered, snatching a few of the sheets out of her grasp. “I thought you were going out, Jane!”

Jane held on to one paper in particular, hopping off the desk and skipping away with it. “Is this a song?”

Killian leapt from his chair, snatching the air around her as she eluded his grasp. “Yes, you’re so bloody smart. Now, give it back!” He continued to try and retrieve it, eventually grabbing Jane by the waist and practically ripping it out of her hands.

“Is it for _Emma_?” she asked in a sing-song voice, her hand perched on her hip.

“I’d rather not say,” he grumbled, storming back to the desk to open a drawer, tucking the sheet music away from her prying eyes. “Would you just bloody go away?”

Jane smirked, toe tapping, arms folded across her chest. “Not until you say you’ll come out with me.”

Killian sat against the desk, bringing a hand up to rub his temple. “Well, then you’ll be waiting an awfully long time, sis. I’m not going.”

“That’s alright,” she snickered. “My friends will wait for you to get ready.”

“Bloody hell, Jane!” Killian shouted, banging his fist against the desk. “I’m not going!”

“Killian B. Jones!” Jane stomped her foot, her hands splayed out in front of her in supplication. “I’m tired of you sitting around here,” she began in a strict tone. “And I’ve had it up to here with you moping about like you’re bloody lovesick. So _please_ , would you _just_ come out with me?”

He stared at her for a moment, biting his bottom lip, rubbing his chin in scrutiny. “Fine,” he finally breathed out, chuckling when his sister squealed in delight. “All you had to do was say please.” He cocked his head to the side, displaying a smug grin.

Jane shook her head, groaning as she marched out of the room. “Come on, you big goon. My friends are waiting downstairs.”

He sighed when he realized that, despite his best efforts, his big sister got her way. It wasn’t until they had arrived at the bar that he noticed he’d missed a call from... from _Emma_.

* * *

Emma headed to Robin’s bar after powering through about a dozen essays, convincing herself this was consolation for grading rather than a ploy to run into the establishment’s lead entertainment. She hoped he was there, hoped she could talk to Killian in person, but when she walked in, there was no sign of him.

“Emma!” Regina shouted, excitedly waving her over as Robin smiled from behind the bar counter.

“Is Killian here?” Emma asked when she got close enough. “I called him and he didn’t answer. I was hoping I could catch him here.”

Robin traded a look with Regina, sighing before he turned his attention back towards Emma. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Emma looked puzzled as she tried to judge the expression on Robin’s face.

“He left,” Robin stated succinctly.

Emma felt her heart lurch into her stomach, a deep feeling of regret washing over her. He left. He _left_. No wonder he wasn’t answering her phone calls. He wasn’t even in the city because he left, left, _left_.

“He went to Boston, Em,” Robin explained as Emma sat down tentatively on the barstool next to Regina, gripping the counter to keep herself from collapsing from the reality of the situation. “He’s staying with his sister, Jane. I talked to her the other day.”

Regina reached out for Emma’s hand, brow furrowing at her husband. “I didn’t know you talked to her.”

Robin nodded. “Aye, she called the bar the evening before last. Wanted to contact the band.”

Emma felt like her head was swirling, the conversation in front of her a hazy murmur. He left. He left. He _left_. She couldn’t stop repeating it to herself, because she caused it. He loved her, and she rejected him, and he left, he _left_.

“He’s just _gone_?” she choked out, trying to mask the intense sadness that was abruptly surfacing.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Robin added. “What happened between you two?”

Emma shook her head, struggling to fight back the tears. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Robin tilted his head to the side. “Well it’s just—”

“ _Robin_ ,” Regina sternly interrupted when she noticed Emma’s eyes brimming with tears. “Drop it please.”

“You know, he’s pretty broken up over you.” Robin pressed on, leaning over the counter.

“He is?” she mumbled surprisingly.

“Of course he is, Em,” he continued, silently acknowledging the band setting up on stage. “I don’t know what exactly you did to make him run all the way to Boston and abandon everything, but it must have really cracked him.” Robin sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “His sister said she hasn’t seen him this upset in a long time.”

Emma stood up, backing away from the counter. “I... I can’t deal with this right now.” She turned around, intent on making a rapid exit when she heard Robin mumble something under his breath.

“Typical Emma.”

She pivoted, now faced with Robin’s smug expression, arms folded over his chest, Regina’s mouth slightly agape at the attitude her husband just displayed.

“Excuse me?” Emma’s eyes widened, a disgruntled scoff hidden behind her tone.

Robin stood firm. “You can’t face the notion that your own inability to let anybody in broke his heart.”

“I’m not going to stand here and listen to this,” Emma recited, trying desperately to ignore the truth behind that statement.

He was dead right, though. Ever since Neal, she’d pushed everyone away, including the two people standing in front of her. It wasn’t until... until she met Killian that everything smoothed out, that she let others back into her life. Still, she had no intention of staying for the rest of Robin’s emblazoned speech only to get vilified in the process. 

“Look, Robin, whatever happened between Killian and I is _our_ business. Not. Yours.”  She turned again, pushing past a group of drunken women hovering close to the counter.

“It becomes my business when my friend’s heart is involved,” Robin bellowed across his own bar.

She dramatically rolled her eyes. “Still leaving, Robin.”

He banged down on the counter, hard and loud enough that some of the patrons gasped. “Goddamnit, Emma! You can’t keep running from the things that scare you!”

She froze, feet glued to the floor. She could still hear the hum of the crowd surrounding her, the soft lull of the band warming up, but it felt like she’d closed in on herself, the poor, little orphan girl, shaken and scared and always, _always_ alone because everyone _leaves_ (and Killian left too, so what the hell changed?).

She spun around, storming towards him in a fury. “And why the hell is that?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“Because sometimes, those are the things you need the most and they can make you really, really happy, only _if_ you let them.” Robin opened one of the drawers, pulling out a piece of torn paper and handing it off to her.

“What’s this?” Emma held the paper in her hand, scanning it quickly before gazing up at Robin.

“Something he started working on before he left. The band said they found it,” Robin explained as Regina peered over Emma’s shoulder to look at it. “Regardless of whether or not you listen to me, I have a suspicion that whatever this is will verbalize it better.” He laughed, patting down on the counter. “Lad’s certainly got a way with words.”

Emma stared blankly at the scribbled music, turning it over several times to see if it was authentic. She took notice of the title _Dust to Dust_ scripted on the top, sentimental lyrics written underneath disorderly music notes, the words “For Emma” jotted under the title in his illegible handwriting. She felt her heart clench and swell simultaneously, tears flowing down her cheeks, a broken sob escaping her throat as Regina leaned in, clutching her friend within her embrace.

“He actually started it,” Emma muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “He started to write the song for the dance show.” Emma leaned into Regina’s shoulder, hands tightly holding onto the song, as if it was the only anchor holding her steady. “The girls had to pick one... and I didn’t think he’d do it... but he did... and oh, God...”

Regina soothingly stroked Emma’s back, Robin leaning forward on his elbows, holding Emma’s hand in his. She hoped she wasn’t making a scene, but everything she’d bottled up since that night, since she ran, came crashing down in waves she couldn’t control.

“Emma, sweetheart,” Regina hummed. “You really need to talk to him. He really loves you, and neither of us can just sit back and watch you let him go.”

She nodded, but who was she kidding? He wouldn’t pick up. He really shouldn’t, not after what she did, especially after what she did...

* * *

This bar was a lot smaller than Robin’s, and the stage was really just a corner with a baby grand piano and a few microphones, and of course, there was no _Emma_.

Jane seemed to know a few of the waiters (most likely previous flings, knowing his sister’s promiscuous behavior) and she quickly got them seats up front, talking up her big brother’s blossoming music career to some man named Peter, who teasingly called his little sister Tinkerbell.

It wasn’t long before they all had a few beers, and Jane’s friends were egging him on to perform. He waved them off, claiming he wasn’t really in the mood but Jane gave him those big puppy dog eyes, and before he knew it, he was sitting on a stool in front of a microphone, rattling off some chord changes to Jane as she made her way to the piano.

“Hello there,” Jane’s voice echoed throughout the tiny establishment, accompanied by a few cheers from her drunken crew of friends. “I’m Jane Jones, most of you know that. This is my little brother, Killian, and he’s really nervous so give him a warm Boston welcome!”

Killian smiled weakly as her friends whooped and hollered, and she began to play the chords he’d shown her, her technique obviously a little rusty as she worked through them. He nervously fidgeted on his stool, itching the crook between his eye and the bridge of his nose with his thumb, before he took a deep breath and let his deep voice sound through the room.

_If you were here beside me instead of in New York_   
_If the curve of you was curved on me_   
_I’d tell you that I loved you before I ever knew you_   
_'Cause I loved the simple thought of you_

The words rolled off his tongue, his voice a little shaky from the sentiment held behind them, his eyes closing at the thought of Emma, her slender frame and long cascading curls and melancholy green eyes all burned into his memory. The touch of her soft hands, the gentle curve of her hip, the dent of her chin and the small wrinkles around her eyes appearing before him like a hallucination.

_If our hearts are never broken and there’s no joy in the mending_   
_There’s so much this hurt can teach us both_   
_There’s distance and there’s silence, your words have never left me_   
_They’re the prayer that I say every day_

Fate had brought them together for whatever reason, a reluctant Emma going to the bar, sitting directly in his line of sight, the spotlight illuminating her fragile heart, showing its cracks to him, silently begging for him to heal them. But after everything she did for him, after she breathed new life into his sorry excuse for one, simultaneously healing the sting that Milah’s death had left, she didn’t want him. She didn’t want _him_.  
  
 _Come on, come out, come here, come here_

His sister played with a little more conviction, following the cue from Killian’s vocals as he gripped the microphone, fingers splayed across the base as he poured his heart into the simple lyrics, the promise that he uttered to Emma, to get her to believe that he meant it, that he _loved_ her.  
  
 _The lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean_  
 _And the fire that was starting to spark_  
 _I miss it all, from the love to the lightning_  
 _And the lack of it snaps me in two_

But she couldn’t take a chance on him, and that hurt more than anything especially when his dreams were haunted by the sound of his name, exhaled from her lips like a plea for him to care for her, understand her, to adore her.  
  
 _If you were here beside me instead of in New York_  
 _In the arms you said you'd never leave_  
 _I'd tell you that it's simple and it was only ever thus_  
 _There is nowhere else that I belong_

The first kiss, the one she’d initiated, felt like a million years away, the distance between the tending of those initial sparks and now growing with each moment he neglected to reach out to her, that she neglected to reach out to him (but she had, earlier, unless that was a mistake, had to be a mistake, why would she call him?).  
  
 _Come on, come out, come here, come here_

_Come here, Emma_ , echoed in his mind again, her body hesitantly lowering alongside him, the slight tremor in her spine paining him, making him want to convince her that much more that he meant it, that he loved her, gods above, he loved her.

_The lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean_   
_And the fire that was starting to spark_   
_I miss it all from the love to the lightning_   
_And the lack of it snaps me in two_

She was like a burst of light in his dark haze, in the muddy complacent life he had been content to lead. From the moment her eyes met his, the moment she splashed that drink onto the counter, told him off without a care in a world, he was _hers_ , body and soul, mind and heart.   
  
_Just give me a sign, there’s an end and not beginning_  
 _To the quiet chaos driving me mad_  
 _The lone neon nights and the walls of the ocean_  
 _And the fire that is starting to go out_

The fire _was_ burning out, the cinders of their time spent together left to disintegrate into ash because she was scared, too scared to trust him, to _love_ him, and his heart broke all over again as the song came to a soft close.

His phone began to buzz in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, her name blinked up at him like a beacon.

_Emma_.

But he couldn’t answer it, pressing the ignore button and shoving the phone back in his pocket as he walked out without so much as a goodbye, intent on heading back to his sister’s apartment. He soon rested on a bench overlooking the calm waters of the harbor, home to small tugboats and historical ships that swayed in the quiet waves.

Silence overcame over him, waves lapping up against the ships, humming into Killian’s ear against the restless drift of his mind. He surely wanted Emma to be his future, he could feel it in every ounce of his being. He belonged with her, he knew it in his bones, in his soul, in his _heart._

All he wanted was for her to just break through her own walls, to open herself up to love, to hope for a happy ending and forever after and all the fairytale nonsense only children believed in because he honestly thought they could have it, they could be it.

But without her acceptance of his love, with her walls still enclosing everything, preventing him from entering, his gracious efforts would be for naught. Nothing could get past those walls... not even _him,_ apparently.

“How can I have a future with Emma, if she doesn’t let me in?” Killian asked himself.

“Well, for starters, moping around Boston isn’t going to win her back,” Jane stated with a chuckle, jolting Killian out of his daze. She sighed as she sat down next to her brother, resting her head on his shoulder. “This Emma girl, it’s obvious you love her. You’ve got to fight for her.”

“No, she made herself quite clear. She said she can’t take a risk on me,” Killian mumbled, nodding his head towards hers, resting his chin against her hair.

Jane let a few silent moments pass before she leaned back to peer up at her brother. “Well, at least promise me you’ll think about going home before you settle down here, alright?” She patted his chest lightly.

Killian sighed. “Aye, I promise, sis.”

She chuckled, bouncing off the bench, lending a hand out for him to join her. “Now, would the captain of good form be so kind as to walk his sister home?”

Killian smiled warmly, his sister mirroring his expression. “I just... I just want to be alone for a little longer, if that’s alright with you.”

She nodded before she headed inside, and once she was out of earshot, he took his phone out, taking notice of the voicemail notification blinking at him. He clicked it uncertainly, fearful of what could be on the other line. Maybe a polite apology? A definitive goodbye?

He held the phone to his ear, sighing as he heard her voice— _Emma’s_ voice—timidly speak through the device.

“Killian? Hi, it’s... Emma.” He heard her exhale, his mind picturing her biting her lip in contemplation. “I just wanted to talk to you, but I guess I’ll have to settle for your voicemail.” There was a long pause, and he could swear he heard a sniffle. “I... um... I’m sorry, for what I said, and what I did.” The supposed sniffle quickly turned into a sob, and his heart clenched at the idea of her crying over him. “I didn’t mean it, I just... couldn’t see either of us getting hurt again if this didn’t work. But now I’m sitting here in my apartment, two bottles of wine later, and I’m thinking about you. I keep thinking of how much I... I miss you and need you. I finally felt like I had found my home, Killian and...”

She scoffed, chuckling quietly to herself. “God, I’m such an idiot, apologizing to your voicemail. You’re probably never going to listen to this. You probably hate me, cause I pretty much hate myself right about now.” She stopped again, her voice reappearing through the speaker as pleading and desperate. “But if you do listen, Killian, if you do... just call me back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this... thank you for being patient :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKWim4D27cc)

“You ready?” Emma heard from behind her, the piano player of Killian’s band nudging her shoulder as they awaited their cue to head out to the orchestra pit in front of the stage.

Emma simply nodded in response, peeking her head out from behind the curtains as a crowd gathered in the auditorium for the dance show. Her mind was nowhere near focused though, her thoughts fixated on Killian and what tonight would have been like had he been here, had he _stayed_.

Killian never returned the voicemail she’d left him, all desperate and pleading for him to just forgive her. The thought of him ignoring her, of him _forgetting her_ gnawed at her insides, crushing her heart every time her mind drifted towards the fact, and she knew that if he were to never speak to her again, at least singing his song would afford her some peace.

The lights dimmed in the auditorium, Emma and the band’s cue to head down the stage towards the orchestra pit. She made her way towards the microphone as the band set up behind her, the stage curtain opening to reveal three of her best dancers.

“A dear friend of mine wrote the song that we are going to start tonight’s show with. Although he couldn’t be here to perform it, I am beyond grateful to have his music and his words showcased for you to hear. Without further ado, here is _Dust to Dust_.”

The soft thrum of the guitar began to ring throughout the auditorium, the steady beat of the drums pulsing behind it as the three girls waltzed across the stage, each performing a short solo. Emma breathed deeply, recalling the words Killian had written, the ones that accurately described everything she was, everything she’d been for the past year until _him_. He pulled her past her walls and the fact that she could have done the same for him seemed preposterous, the whole notion making her miss him that much more as the guitarist nodded at her to begin singing.

_It's not your eyes, it's not what you say_   
_It's not your laughter that gives you away_   
_You're just lonely_   
_You've been lonely, too long_

She closed her eyes as the subdued guitar melody overwhelmed her senses, causing her to remember everything she’d been through with Killian, their first meeting right down to the moment he told her he loved her. There were moments that made her second-guess every barrier she’d put up around her heart, every excuse she’d given herself for never moving on, and it all came rushing back as it had since the night she found this song.

She breathed deeply, intent on singing through the rest of the verse, when she heard something unusual. There was a voice, low and steady and distinctly familiar and it reverberated throughout the auditorium, harmonizing alongside hers. She looked to her right and gasped, almost neglecting the lyrics as he appeared from behind the curtain on stage.  
  
 _Oh, you're acting your thin disguise_  
 _All your perfectly delivered lines_  
 _They don't fool me_  
 _You've been lonely, too long_

It was him. It was _Killian_. He came back. He was here and he _came back_ , dark jeans, plaid shirt, hair a tousled mess atop his head, blue eyes twinkling in her direction. He shot her a beaming grim, causing her heart to skip and her stomach to flop and her senses to tingle as his gaze burned through to her very core.

He strolled down the steps of the stage before heading straight towards her, microphone clutched in his hand as he reached out with his other to link it within hers.  
  
 _Let me in the wall you've built around_  
 _We can light a match and burn it down_  
 _Let me hold your hand and dance_  
 _'Round and 'round the flames in front of us_  
 _Dust to..._

She could hear the light ahhs from the crowd (and the girls on stage, who she hoped weren’t dancing like complete fools at the surprising entrance of her handsome musician... _her_ handsome musician, she reminded herself) when he removed his hand from her grasp, lifting it up to brush a loose curl behind her ear, the hum of his tone soothing her as the unique sound of their voices together echoed throughout the auditorium. His hand brushed across her cheek, coming to rest beneath her chin, his now misty eyes smiling down at her as he soloed on the second verse with a musical conviction she’d sorely missed.  
  
 _You've held your head up, you've fought the fight_  
 _You bear the scars, you've done your time_  
 _Listen to me_  
 _You've been lonely, too long_

The girls on stage pirouetted effortlessly into the chorus, the band performing with a deeper certainty than in any rehearsal beforehand. It resonated within Emma and Killian as well as the girls on stage, who were donning beaming smiles as they watched their teacher fall effortlessly back into the heart of Killian. _  
  
_All Emma could think of was that Killian came back, he _came back_ and nobody, _nobody_ had done that before. Not her birth parents, not the foster families of her childhood, not even Neal (at least, not when she needed him). But here he was, Killian Jones, man of honor, man of his _word_ , and he _came back_.

_Let me in the wall you've built around_   
_We can light a match and burn it down_   
_Let me hold your hand and dance_   
_'Round and 'round the flames in front of us_   
_Dust to dust_

She reminded herself of the conversations of late, with Regina and Robin, about how both of them trusted Killian with her heart, how they couldn’t let her throw away what she had with him because of her own insecurities. She knew Regina had spoken to him, knew Robin had interrogated him prior to the wedding, both reiterating that _only a fool would let her go_ and she wondered if she had been the fool all this time, disregarding his affections because hers were just as strong (and just as frightening).

But it all sort of clicked into place as he swayed along with her to the music, as if he’d passed all of the obstacles she’d placed in between him and her heart and was deemed worthy by herself and those helping to protect it. He loved her, and she could see it in his expression, so promising as he flashed another smile towards her, a deep blush glowing across her face. He stepped even closer to sing a phrase of the final verse, fingers reaching out to tug lightly on her hip.  
  
 _You're like a mirror, reflecting me_

Emma chuckled when he nodded playfully for her to take the next line.

_Takes one to know one, so take it from me_

He pulled her flush to him as they responded to one another, answering the question that was plaguing both of their thoughts, the question that both of their gazes pressed upon the other.

_You've been lonely, you've been lonely, too long  
We've been lonely, we've been lonely, too long_

_Did you miss me?_ Of course, both answers were a resounding _yes_.

* * *

“That was so amazing!” Regina exclaimed, pushing her way through the crowd of congratulatory parents, teachers and students to make her way towards Emma. “ _Especially_ the part with Killian.” She hugged her friend tightly.

“Yeah, which reminds me, did you see where he ran off to?” Emma searched the crowd, noticing Robin chatting to the band, throngs of parents still commending their children, but no sign of Killian.

“Last I saw him, he was headed outside.” Regina cocked her head towards the exit, and Emma realized that maybe this was all too much for him (or maybe she hallucinated his presence, and Regina was just pandering the delusion). “Are you happy he’s here?”

Emma frowned. “I guess... I don’t know. I just didn’t think he would come back.”

Regina chuckled. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t.” Regina smirked, which caused Emma to glare in her direction. “Either way, you need to go find him and talk to him and figure this all out.”

“He probably doesn’t want to talk,” Emma muttered, swaying nervously in place.

“I don’t care.” Regina pointed towards the door with one of those all-knowing grins. “Go! Now!”

Emma shook her head, attempting to hold off a snicker as Regina shoved her towards the exit, practically pushing her out the door, trading glances with her husband as if this was all part of some evil plan they’d concocted to get Emma and Killian back together.

* * *

“Killian!” she shouted when she caught sight of him leaning against the wrought iron fence surrounding her school, waving her arm to get his attention above the roar of city traffic. “Hey, Killian!”

He turned towards her, eyes glimmering at the sight of her, flowing sundress and tan heels, curls cascading down her back, a vision in the twilight of the skyline.

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathed out, practically unable to contain his joy. “Your show was really lovely, you should be quite proud of those kids of yours. And you performed my song with such beauty, really did it justi—”

“You left,” she interrupted when she finally got close enough.

He scratched behind his ear, sullen frown forming on his lips. “Ah, I figured you had more important matters to attend to. Didn’t want to be in the way, love.” He pushed himself off the fence, heading towards the nearest street corner.

She stepped closed, grasping his arm, causing him to halt. “No. You left for Boston.”

A silence overcame them, not the comfortable kind she’d grown accustomed to, but the kind that made your hair stand on edge and your stomach tie into an anxious knot.

He bit his bottom lip, scanning the space around her but never actually looking at her. “Aye, there was no use in me lingering around New York... when _you_ didn’t want me.”

Emma’s lips pursed. “You never even said goodbye,” she uttered quietly, sounding so much like the orphan girl—scared and broken and _hurt_ (and she never intended to have this sort of conversation with him, of all people).

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, still averting his gaze from hers. “Neither did you.”

She exhaled, squeezing his bicep apologetically before letting go. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just I—”

Something seemed to snap in his expression as he lunged towards her. “Do you know how much it hurt when you walked out?” he spoke through gritted teeth, the force of his grasp pushing her backwards until she was up against the fence, his arms imprisoning her on either side. “I gave you everything, _everything_ , and you just tossed it back in my face like it didn’t even matter to you!” His face was wrought with the sting of heartbreak as his brow furrowed, a slight snarl hidden within his tone, the broken man she knew simmering to the surface.

She trembled, biting down on her cheek to force the tears back, to try and answer calmly, but everything came spewing out of her mouth uncontrollably. “You think I _wanted_ to do that? You think it didn’t kill me when I shut that door behind me? Behind _us_?”

He looked stunned, mostly because he’d garnered such an intense reaction from her, his eyes widening in response. “But you did it anyway,” he uttered calmly, voice still laced with the agony from his first accusation. “You only thought about yourself because you got scared.” He leaned in just enough to catch her wandering gaze, forcing her glossy green eyes to look into his. “You’re too scared to trust me, to let me in. You did for a brief moment, and then you pushed me away like you _never bloody cared_.”

Emma pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble backwards on the sidewalk. “Are you freaking kidding me?” She pushed him again, harder. “Are you _freaking_ kidding me? Do you think I would have used your song if I _never cared_?” she cried, fisting her hands to shove even harder his chest. “Do you think I would have called you to try and apologize if I _never cared_? Do you think that morning didn’t wreck me too?”

He grabbed for both her wrists when she tried to punch his torso again. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?” His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around her fragile wrists. He let go when he noticed her wince from the pain, backing up as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to regain his senses. “Look, I didn’t think I could love again, Emma... until I... until I met you.” His expression softened, a gentler side shining through the heartbreak. “You made me feel whole again. You, Emma— _you_ —gave me a purpose in life, to heal your broken heart like you healed mine.”

She felt tears escape her eyes, her whole body trembling because this was it. This was the moment he would leave for good, tell her it was fun and amazing while it lasted, but it would never return to the way things once were because she’d hurt him too much, she’d wounded his heart in a way she never imagined she could. He was going to leave, leave, _leave_.

“ _Killian_.” She moved closer, reaching out to grasp his hands, but he placed them both behind his back, out of her reach.

“If you don’t want me in your life, if that’s what your heart truly wants, Emma... then all you have to do is ask me to leave and I’m gone.” He swayed uncertainly, licking his lips as his eyes trailed away to the city lights before returning with a look so hopeless, her heart seized up in her chest.

“No. No, _don’t_... don’t do this,” she stammered through quiet sobs. "I don't want that."

“But if you even have so much of an inkling that there is a future for us.” He gestured between them, his own voice cracking through each syllable. “If you love me like I think you do, then all you have to do is say it. _Say_ the words, and I’ll _stay_. I’ll never leave. I’m yours forever.”

Emma’s hands fidgeted, her teeth dragging her bottom lip under, biting down hard. “You can’t keep expecting me to... You can’t keep asking me to... to...”

“To what?”

She stomped her heel on the pavement, grumbling loudly. “You know why I can’t!” she yelped, moving towards him to grab his shoulders. “I can’t, Killian. I.. I...”

“Gods, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Killian sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought we had something special, but I guess I read you all wrong.”

Emma panicked, watching as the most important person in her entire life, her _home_ , decided she wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the frustration and the heartache and the pain because she didn’t know how to do this, didn’t know how to _love_. Memories of Neal suddenly walking out that evening, leaving her in a state of such agony that she never dreamed she would recover from flashed through her mind. Neal’s abandonment hurt like absolute hell, but nothing, _nothing_ felt like it would compare to what she was experiencing right now.

“Please, Killian. Please. _Don’t_.”

He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists, bringing them away from his shoulders and towards his face to brush his lips softly across her knuckles. “Emma Swan, you’re a marvelous, brilliant woman.” He let go, both of her hands dropping like weights in front of him as he backed up slowly. “I don’t think there’s a day that will go by I won’t remember our time together and how you healed my tortured heart.”

“No, _please_.”

“I don’t believe I shall love another like I loved you,” he continued, still backing away from her, leaving her (oh god, he was _leaving_ her and it felt like her whole world was collapsing in on her). “Goodbye, Emma.”

She felt everything close in on her when he pivoted, walking shakily down the busy street, his masculine frame illuminated by the twinkle of the skyline. She forced him out. _She_ did this, or rather, her heart did, and _now_ , now she was letting him _leave_. How could she do that?

She kept shaking, kept crying, tears flowing down her cheeks uninhibited. She could hear every moment they’d shared together in her memory, could see them with complete clarity. The first drink at the bar, her pride causing her to return it. The first song he ever sang with her, and the way he compassionately guided her through it. Their talk about true love after Regina’s engagement, and the way his jacket smelled of spice and rum and him. The way he waited like a fool outside of her school, inviting her to take a risk with him. The way his eyes scanned her frame on their first date, the way he held her close while they danced, and held her hand tightly to calm down her anxieties. The night of shots and temptations and getting splashed in the rain and making out in his doorway and lazily eating breakfast in the comfort of one another only to fall back asleep to the sound of those chick flicks she knew he secretly loved. The confidence he had in her abilities, and the adoration he displayed when she didn’t believe she deserved it. The soft kisses and the warm smiles and the one perfect night of love and passion and pleasure and everything she ever dreamed of.

She let it all go. For what? _For what?_

He was almost to the street corner when she heard the words leave her lips, her stare glued onto him as he froze.

“I love you.”

She gasped after they flowed so freely, as if there was no question, no hesitation, no fear.

“Goddamnit, Killian Jones! I love you!”

He turned swiftly, puzzled look swimming across his face, a tinge of fear in his deep gaze. She shrugged her shoulders in defeat, offering him a weak smile.

His lips twisted into a full on grin as he rushed back to her, and before she could judge the situation any further, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him and crashing his lips down onto hers. She linked her hands around his neck, pulling him down into her because she loved him, _she loved him_. He let both his hands wander towards her back, molding her into him, kissing her with every ounce of strength he had because there weren’t any existing words to convey how much _he loved her too_.

* * *

She wasn’t even sure what happened after that kiss, because it was all a haze of _I love you_ and _I need you_ and _I’ll never leave you again_ and clothes being torn off in hasty motions, her dress crumpled in the living room, his pants strewn across the couch, a bra tossed in the direction of the kitchen and his plaid shirt practically ripped to button-less pieces in the hallway to her bedroom.

But she awoke the next morning with a warm body lying next to her, scruff scratching at her shoulder, puffs of warm air blowing over her sensitive skin. She loosened herself from his grip, wrapping her bed sheet around her frame and sneaking towards her bathroom to freshen up, careful not to wake him from his charming slumber.

Her curls were a mess, her makeup slightly smudged, but when she looked at her reflection, really studied it, she saw someone completely different. She wasn’t lonely, wasn’t hurt or abandoned. She was _happy_. For the first time in a long time, she was really, really _happy_.

She was startled by quiet footsteps, turning around to see Killian, clad only in his plaid ( _of_ _course_ _)_ boxers, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“You alright, love?”

She nodded, turning back towards the mirror to glance at the smile of the broken orphan, all healed and loved and _happy_ (because she let herself be happy, all those reminders of _if you let it_ finally sinking in).

“Just glad you’re back.” She smiled even brighter, something she felt herself doing non-stop for the past twelve hours or so.

He sauntered over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head on her shoulder to stare at her through the mirror. “Aye, me too.”

They stayed there for a long moment, swaying in the tight embrace of one another when he chuckled to himself.

“What?” She smirked, cocking her head to the side.

He placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “So, you love me, eh?” His mouth left a wet path up towards her neck before his lips rested just underneath her earlobe.

She turned in his grasp, letting the bed sheet slip a little bit down her torso, a soft hum sounding from her lips. “You say that like you’re surprised?” She arched an eyebrow at him, a sudden déjà vu at their current conversation (and how it’s last occurrence ended completely opposite of how it should have).

“Well, you must understand my uncertainty, considering...” he began, distracted by the sheet slipping gradually down her slender frame, exposing new skin with each passing second.

“I’m sorry for doubting you, Killian,” she whispered, staring blankly down at his chest.

He leaned back, taking in the intense regret written across her face, lifting her chin up so her timid green could meet his comforting blue. “It’s all in the past, love.” He kissed the tip of her nose in an endearing manner.

“I know, but I’m still sorry,” she repeated. “I made a huge mistake leaving you that night and—”

“Doesn’t matter now.” He gently placed a kiss on her lips. “But if we’re in the business of making amends, I must apologize for what I said and did last night.” He lifted his hand to tuck a loosened curl behind her ear.

“You felt abandoned. I get that,” she responded, leaning into his touch.

“Aye, but that still doesn’t excuse it,” he reminded her, cupping her cheek tenderly.

“Well, from now on, we do this right. It’s you and me. _Us_ ,” she stated with an accompanying smile, her hands roaming his broad shoulders as if to make sure this wasn't all a dream. “No more fooling around.”

He grinned like a complete idiot as her sheet slipped lower and lower until it was pooled at her feet. “Is this not considered fooling around, love?”

She chuckled breathlessly, her fingers reaching for the hem of his boxer shorts, slowly pushing them down until he was bare as well. He smirked, lifting her up to sit her on the sink counter, spreading her legs around his waist.

“No,” she shook her head as she caressed his face, legs clutched tight around his hips.

Emma, the once lonely, orphaned girl, looked down at Killian, whose eyes were so wide and hopeful and caring. A small smile grew on her lips again before she seared yet another kiss onto him (hopefully just one of an _infinity_ of kisses). She realized then, as his strong arms wrapped around her waist, eradicating the gap between them, that she wasn’t lonely anymore, that she’d found a home for her battered heart. She leaned back as he caught his breath, a beaming grin escaping her lips.

“No, Killian. This is called falling in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged or subscribed to this story. Most people don’t know why it was even written, so let me indulge you.
> 
> A week before I posted the first chapter, my boyfriend of five years left me with absolutely no warning. We met in college when I was nineteen and he was eighteen, and we were practically inseparable. It was the type of relationship where everyone thought you'd get married and you talked about your future like it was sure thing.
> 
> Then it all just fell apart.
> 
> I was coming home from my winter concert to find he was ready to leave me, that things were over and he didn't love me anymore. He cared, but he didn't love, and I remember as I was crying and screaming and trying to make sense of everything he said: “I didn’t want to do it like this, but I can’t stay here anymore. I just don't love you.”
> 
> The break-up was extremely hard on me and I was in a dark place in the time afterwards. I felt like everything I had understood about love, every possible future I had dreamed of with him was shattering in front of my eyes. I felt like I had lost my best friend, and it was extremely difficult to come to the realization that the one person who I would have done anything and everything for clearly didn’t feel the same way about me.
> 
> Literally a week later, the idea for this story came to me. I was driving home from a Christmas dinner with my best friend and heard Say Something on the radio. I had to pull over because I was so engrossed in tears, I couldn’t see the road. When I got home that night, I realized I couldn’t let him ruin my life, couldn’t let him control me with his abandonment. I had to do something. So I started writing a story about a mysteriously lonely musician who falls for a cautiously broken orphan—because I felt just as lonely and broken as they did.
> 
> The first few chapters became more about me than Emma, and it was absolutely terrifying baring my inner most thoughts to this audience, but with each chapter I felt more comfortable, felt like I was finding peace with what had happened. It wasn’t until I was midway through the story that I felt like I could finally breathe, could finally start to move past the harm he caused me. I realized I was immortalizing him in words, but I was also saying goodbye to him once and for all in the only way I knew how.
> 
> Having Emma and Killian fall in love was a way of acknowledging what it is I’m looking for the next time love comes my way. I’ll probably have the same insecurities as our dear Swan girl, but I now know what it is I’m looking for in my Killian and I feel like I’m stronger emotionally as a result of writing this.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much I needed to write it, and if you’ve gotten this far, know that no matter how hurt or broken or scared you feel, there is a light, there is hope, and change can make you really happy, _if you let it._


	18. Holiday Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a holiday epilogue that I felt needed to be written since it's been a year since the events that inspired this fic in the first place and I heard this particular version of the song and just knew it was meant for these two...
> 
> So happy holidays everyone! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [song link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtErbVIoEII)

It was strange, it had been a year, a whole _year_ and Emma felt completely different. _Again_.

Except this year, it was a good different, the kind that made you sigh contentedly as you reminisced over everything you’d done and everything you hadn’t and all that you wished to do next year. She was never one for resolutions, always failing at the whole _losingweighteatinghealthythinkingpositive_ garbage that everybody bought into for about a month until they just gave up.

But this year, she _had_ changed. She felt strong, happy, positive, in _love_. Her life wasn’t lonely, that empty feeling in her chest suddenly non-existent, replaced by a warm swell every time she smiled at this party, the one Regina semi-forced her to attend and twisted her elbow to name some work friends to invite (to which she responded with a science teacher named Elsa and her brother-in-law, the history teacher Kristoff along with his wife, Anna).

The warm scent of her spiced rum hit her senses as the soft crooning of one very _very_ handsome Irishman sifted through the crowd and she looked up to lock gazes with the musician in question. He winked at her from his place on stage before flashing her his smuggest grin and goddamnit he was such an idiot.

A girl next to her blushed, and Emma couldn’t help but chuckle because he was wearing those dark jeans and that grey knitted scarf above his black Henley, scruff detailing his jawline ( _Keeps me warm, Swan_ , he’d joked when he’d nuzzled his cheek against hers, the bushy hair prickling her skin as his lips wandered down down _down_ , resting between her thighs, causing a whole different kind of burn), so of course the whole crowd would be putty in his hands.

A loud giggle in the form of a brown, shaggy haired boy burst through the bustling bar, jolting her from her thoughts, almost knocking over several semi-drunk guests in his wake.

“Roland Sherwood!” his mother squawked, scooping him up and snuggling him against her chest, blowing raspberries across his face, all annoyance and frustration literally gone from her face as her son giggled happily in her arms, the song from the stage fading out as the crowd clapped in response.

Roland shouted gleefully in reply to Regina’s sudden tickle attack, and Emma felt the corners of her mouth quirk into a smile at the sight before she felt strong arms wrap around her waist that she obviously recognized as Killian's. He nuzzled into the crook between her neck and shoulder, his beard rubbing against her delicate skin there, his soft lips brushing across it to sooth the burn, setting a fire that she just knew was his ultimate purpose before he hummed into her ear. 

“Did you enjoy the entertainment, love?” he whispered, a smirk hidden in his tone as she twirled around on her barstool to face him, arms gliding up his chest and linking behind his neck.

She tilted her head up, his lips tender as they met hers, tasting like the holiday spices the label of his winter lager promised, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck before he trailed his lips down her jawline as if he was trying to rile her up (stupid Irish boyfriend).

“Killian,” she half-moaned, trying to be mildly frustrated with him but losing the battle quickly (as she usually did). “We’re in _public_.”

The girl next to her groaned in mild disgust as she walked away, shoving her barstool forcefully into the counter.

He chuckled in response. “Shall I remind you that it has never stopped you before?”

She tried to be angry, but thoughts of them in making out in her classroom after the dance show last week and in the bathroom of the bar when Robin had left them to close up after a rehearsal flashed through her mind, causing a heat to pool low in her belly.

She swatted his chest, pushing him away and causing him to stumble backwards a little bit. He just laughed again, taking a cocky swig of his beer, his eyes suddenly dark as he roamed her figure, fixated on the bit of shoulder peeking out from her baggy cable sweater.

She hadn’t realize when they fell into this content relationship, with public displays of affection and little bouts of teasing and flirty exchanges (it must have been somewhere between the first time they met and the second or third date, when he’d brought her to Little Italy, to that quaint restaurant where they’d danced for the first time, telling her about his childhood, his sister and brother and his dream to tour Ireland with the band).

A sudden giggle tore through the crowd as Roland launched into her lap to escape his mother. “Em!” he shrieked, causing Emma to roll her eyes at her friend strolling towards her.

“I’m going to get revenge on you if the kid calls me Auntie Em when he’s older,” Emma threatened, trying to scowl as Roland climbed up her legs, playing with her curls as if they were toys.

Regina only snickered. “What are you going to do? Steal my heart and my little dog too?”

“She stole mine,” Killian offered with a cheeky wink.

“You’re an idiot,” Emma groaned.

“ _Your_ idiot, love,” he reminded her as he lifted her left hand, grazing his lips softly against her knuckles.

“Sing!” Roland asked, his precious hands roaming her face.

Emma grinned. “I think that’s Uncle Killy’s job,” she jested, knowing the nickname drove him insane.

Regina nudged her, nodding towards the empty stage. “You know, it’s been a while since you two have sang together.”

Emma shook her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t. Really, _no_.”

“Come on, Swan,” Killian teased, taking one final sip of his beer before placing the empty bottle down on the counter. “One little song won’t hurt.”

Roland was beaming as he pressed his hands against Emma’s cheeks, pushing her lips together and when she glanced back at Killian, his gaze had shifted, somewhere between delighted and absolutely smitten.

(She remembered the way he’d looked the night they’d met, all brooding and broken and just a tad mysterious, and she rather preferred this version, the one that made her heart flutter and her knees buckle, the one that made her feel like she hung the stars and the sun and the moon.)

“Fine,” she groaned, pretending to be frustrated as she handed Roland off to his mother.

Killian slipped his hand into hers, guiding her towards the stage as memories of a song about giving up flashed through her mind, her grip on his hand growing tighter in fear, the nightmare of her past coming back as panic settled in her bones. He squeezed back in response, as if to say it was alright, before lightly kissing the crown of her head when she shifted closer to him.

The stage felt smaller this time, more intimate than the first time she’d sang on it. Maybe it was the feeling of the man beside her, the way they just fit together, the way they always had.

Back then, everything with him felt overwhelming and vast and terrifying, bigger than she could understand, more complicated than anything she could handle at the moment. But now, it felt right and safe as he set up her microphone, smiling as she tried to hide the bit of anxiety still left in her mind before the lights dimmed and the stage was the focal point of the establishment once again.

“One last song,” he started, nodding towards her to guide the audience’s attention to the new addition to the ensemble. “From us to you, happy holidays!”

The soft lilt of his guitar rang through the room as he leaned into the microphone to croon out the first verse.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Let your heart be light_   
_From now on our troubles will be out of sight_

He looked at her instead of the audience, gaze wandering her face, studying her as if she wasn’t even real. It was moments like these that made her heart lurch into her throat, a powerful feeling of devotion and adoration overcoming her because this man, no matter how dorky or goofy or sweet or handsome he was, was absolutely, perfectly in love with her.

She stepped towards her microphone, smiling when the words to the second verse tumbled from her lips in a sweet timbre, harmonizing with his smooth baritone, his laid back guitar accompanying them alongside the piano.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Make the yule tide gay_   
_From now on our troubles will be miles away_

She couldn’t help but think about the words, how this song could have meant so much to her a year ago, how her troubles were in fact miles away because this year she was here with Killian, with her friends Regina and Robin, with her colleagues from school, all members of the small family she’d created for herself despite her walls.

He leaned back, the strum of his guitar growing quieter as she sang, twinkling piano licks filling the air as he proudly looked upon her.

_Here we are as in olden days  
Happy golden days of yore_

He grinned as he picked up the rest of the verse, looking out to the crowd and nodding to Robin and Regina, both wrapped up in each other and Roland before glancing back at her, shifting closer as she tried not to blush, both completely immersed in the intimacy and the heat between them.

_Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more_

She couldn’t stop smiling, his face beaming with pride and satisfaction as she joined him on the chorus.

_Through the years we all will be together  
If the fates allow_

She took a deep breath as she belted out the next line, her body swaying along with the strum of his guitar.

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bow_

He backed away slightly, crooning the final line of the chorus with her before winking at her, causing her to giggle slightly on the final words.

_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

He closed his eyes, becoming one with his instrument (as he usually did, as he did the night she’d met him, and she was pretty sure that was why she fell for him in the first place, because he seemed so passionate about something so simple, that passion and drive and enthusiasm always present in the way he acted towards her). He plucked the melody to the song with practiced ease, strong fingers moving through the notes.

She hummed along towards the end, causing his eyes to shoot open, surprise evident on his face at her intent to take the next verse solo, something she rarely did anymore. But she could now, because she could be strong with him at her side, more confident than ever before with his support and guidance and care to build her up.

And her voice soared over the accompaniment, her eyes gleaming towards him.

_Here we are as in olden days  
Happy golden days of yore_

His body swayed with the relaxed beat of the music, joining her on the following lines, singing with renewed vigor as she harmonized along with him.

_Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more_

They carefully sang through the final parts, her hand coming up to rest on his cheek, thumb rubbing his scruff as he nuzzled into her hand.

_Through the years we all will be together  
If the fates allow_

Her voice, strong and sure and powerful, resonated through the room, causing a shiver to run down her spine as her hand came to rest on his jaw, her fingertips grazing the nape of his neck.

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bow_

His eyes, blue and gentle, gazed over at her as he strummed the final lines, the piano picking up the final chords as he plucked the last notes on his guitar.

_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

She thought of everything he’d done for her this past year to show her she deserved to be loved, the night on the patio when he’d taught her about true love and held her hand and made her strong, the engagement party where he’d helped her overcome her anxieties, the wedding where he’d showed her with words and actions how much he truly loved her, the song he’d written for her and about her, the fight outside her school where he all but bared his soul for her and she’d done the same, the moments thereafter where she rushed back to her apartment, pushing him roughly against the door, letting him know how much she wanted him, how much she needed him, how much she’d _missed_ him.

And as all those feelings welled up inside of her, she gripped his Henley and hauled him towards her, kissing him senseless as cheers erupted from the crowd, Regina shouting _Get it girl!_ as Robin whooped and hollered. His lips tugged at hers, his hand coming up to cup her head as he tilted her to the side, fingers tangling in her blonde curls.

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathed out when they parted, foreheads resting on one another’s as the band clapped in jest, his fingers trailing down her neck and resting on her shoulder.

“I love you,” she whispered before he could say anything else.

Killian leaned back, gazing down upon her with such reverence that it made her heart swell. “I’ve always known that.”

Emma giggled lightly, a red creeping up her cheeks as the audience chanted for them to kiss again. He nibbled at her lips before gently brushing against them, smiling into the kiss. “I love you too, Emma.”

She couldn’t help but whisper against his lips with a smirk, “I’ve always known that too.”

 


End file.
